



t^sj^^^ 



THE 



BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BY 



ARTHUE W. PINERb 




RAHWAY, N. J. 
THE MERSHON COMPANY 

1895 



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I 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 






s 



THE 



BENEFIT OF THE DOTJBT 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BT 



ARTHUR W. PINERO 




RAHWAY, nTj. 

THE MERSHON COMPAKY 

1895 



"h 







Copyright, 1895, 

BY 

WILLIAM HEINEMANN. 



All rights reserved. 



THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
RAHWAY, N. J. 



This play was produced at the Comedy Theatre, London, 
on Wednesday, October 16, 1895. 



THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY. 

Mrs. Emptage {a loidoic).- 

Claude Emptage {her son). 

JusTiNA Emptage ) 

^ [• (Jiev daughters). 

Theophila Eraser ) 

Sir Fletcher Portwood, M. P. {her brother). 

Mrs. Cloys {her sister). 

Rt. Rev. Anthony Cloys, D. D., Bishop of St. Olpherts. 

Alexander Eraser—" Eraser of Locheen." 

John Allingham. 

Olive Allingham. 

Denzil Shafto 

Peter Elphick 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 

HoRTON {a servant at Mrs. Emptage' s). 

Quaife {a servant at Mr. Allingham' s). 



!• {Allingh am's friends) . 



The scenes are placed at Mrs. Emptage' s house, in the neigh- 
bourhood of Regent's Park, and at The Lichens, Mr. 
Allingham' 8 cottage at Epsmn. 

'Ihe events of the First and Second Acts occur on the same day ; 
those of the Third Act about fifteen hours aftericards. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 



THE FIRST ACT. 

The Scene represents a drawing-room in Mrs. 
Emptage's house near RegenVs Park, At 
the back are double doors ^ opening on to a 
further drawing-room^ and these face a win- 
dow, over xohich the blinds are drawn, to 
moderate the glare of the sun, which neverthe- 
less streams through them, for it is a fine 
afternoon in early summer. The rooms are 
furnished and decorated in a costly and 
tasteful fashion, 

Mrs. Emptage is reclining upon the settee, her 
eyes closed, a bottle of smelling salts in her 
hand, Justin a is pacing the room between 
the door and the icindow, Mrs. Emptage is 
a pretty, carefidly preserved looman loith 
dyed hair and " touched-up '^^ face : she is old 
enough to be the mother of a daughter of nine- 
and'twenty, Justina is of that age, good- 
looking, '^ smart ^'^ and already somewhat 
passe. Both are fashionably but sombrely 
dressed, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Tell me the time once more, 'Tina. 



2 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

JUSTIXA. 

\^Referri7ig to her watch.] A few minutes to 
four, mother. 

Mrs. Emptage. 

Does the judge of the Divorce Court invariably 
rise at four o'clock ? 

JUSTINA. 

He may sit a little later under special circum- 
stances. 

' Mrs. Emptage. 
To have done with a case if it's verv near its 
end ? 

Justin A. 
So Pm told. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
They must all be here soon, whether that hap- 
pens or not. 

JUSTINA. 

Yes, yes. Oh, but if the confounded thing 
should last into another day ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
A third day's suspense will kill me. 

JUSTIKA. 

Ma, I suppose, really, we ought to be reading 
our Church Services or something. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
~ I can't concentrate my attention in the least ; I 
have been glancing at ''The Yellow Book." 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 3 

JUSTINA. 

Hark ! what's that ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 
I don't hear anything. 

JUSTINA. 

It is somebody ! . 

H0RTON5 a manservant^ appears. 

HORTON. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 

[Mrs. Emptage struggles to her feet as Mrs. 
Quinton Twelves enters, Horton 
retires, Kate Tavelves is a lively^ 
handsome young tcoman, brightly 
dressed. 

Justina and Mrs. Emptage. 
l^Throioing themselves upon her.'\ Kitty ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
\Kissing them.^ Well, well, well, well ! 

Justina. 
Is it over ? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Not quite ; that is, it wasn't when I came 
away. It's all over by now, I expect. 

Mrs. Emptage. 

[Hysterically,] Oh, Kitty ! 



4 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mbs. Quinton Twelves. 
S-s-sh, s-s-sh ! everything has gone swim- 
mingly, I tell you. 

JUSTINA. 

For Theophila ? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Of course, for Theophila. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
l^Smking back on to the settee,^ I felt sure it 
would. 

Justin A. 
But what was happening when you left? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
The dear old judge was just beginning to deliver 
his decision — his judgment. 

JUSTINA. 

Oh, how could you come away then ? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Certainly, it was a wrench. Only, Theo wrote 
little notes to Sir Fletcher Portwood and to Claude 
and me. [ Taking a screw of paper from her t/love.] 
Here's mine. [Iieadi7ig,] '' I won't have anybody 
I am fond of, except my husband, in Court at the 
finish. They tell me they are sure I am cleared, 
but it frightens me to think you are all waiting. 
Go to mother's." 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 5 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Takhiff the noteA My poor child ! [Heading 
it.] **.... tbey are sure I am cleared . . . ." 
'Tina, she's cleared ! 

Mrs. Quintox Twelves. 
Cleared ! I wish you could have heard Sir John 
Clarksou's opening speech for Theophila this 
morning. There was quite a murmur of approyal 
wlien he sat down. 

JUSTINA. 

He let that wretch, Mrs. Jack Allingham, have 
it— eh ? He did ! 

Mrs. Quintox Twelves. 

He said that a morbidly jealous wife is one of 
the saddest spectacles the world presents ; but that 
when her jealousy leads her to attempt to blacken 
the reputation, the hitherto spotless reputation, of 
another woman, — in this instance, a young lady 
more happily married than herself, — ^^then that jeal- 
ous wife becomes a positive danger to society. 

Mrs. Emptage. 

I ought to have been there, 'Tina. I said it was 
my duty, if you remember. 

JUSTIXA. 

I might have gone. 

Mrs. Quintox Twelves. 
Certainly ; and yet you have both sat at home, 
quaking ; behaving, for all the Avorld, as if you 



6 TEE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

have a lurking suspicion that Theophila really 
may — really has — really did 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Kate, I will not permit you to say such a thing ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Why these miserable-looking gowns, then ? 
You are dressed more funereally to-day than you 
were yesterday ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[^Tearfully,^ If you live to see a daughter of 
yours, however innocent she may be, dragged 
through the Divorce Court ! 

JUSTINA. 

We haven't been quite certain what w^e ought 
to put on. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
I considered half-mourning rather a happy 
thought. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
To my mind, it looks as if you had deliberately 
prepared for all emergencies. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Rising^ in aflutter.'] 'Tina, pin some flowers 
in your dress at once ! I'll get Bristow to stick a 
bit of relief about me somewhere. And I'll wear 
some more rings 

\_She goes out. Justina selects some cut 
flowers from a vase on the pianoforte. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 7 

JUSTINA. 

Oh, Kit, we were dreadfully in the dumps. 
Bless you for buUjdng us ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[^Taking a pin from her Jiat^ Come here. 

JUSTINA. 

[^Going to Mrs. Twelves.] By Jove, though ! 
it would have been too rough on us if — if — 
wouldn't it ? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[^Attaching thefloioers to the bodice of Justin a's 
dress.l Pray complete your sentence. 

JUSTINA. 

Well— if Mrs. AUingham had made out her 
case against Jack AUingham and Theo. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
For shame, 'Tina ! 

JUSTINA. 

Oh, you're awfully prudish all of a sudden, 

Kate. You've very soon forgotten Mind 

that pin ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. • 
What are you saying ? 

JUSTINA. 

I mean, it isn't as if we hadn't all been just a 
leetle rapid in our time, we three girls^ — Theo, you. 



8 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

and I. You needn't be quite so newly-raarried- 
womanish with me, 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Shut up ! 

JUSTINA. 

[Glafici7ig round,] No one's there. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[Tn an undertone,] We always knew where to 
draw the line, I hope. 

Justin A. 
Of course we did. Only, when you're married, 
as Theo is, to a cold, dry mummy of a man like 
Alexander Fraser, the line's apt to get drawn 
rather zigzag. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[Finishing with the flowers,] Go away ! 

JUSTINA. 

Thanks — they're jolly. [Picking up a little 
7nirror from the table and making a lory face at 
herself] I haven't had a night's sound sleep for 
weeks. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
I should think not, with such thoughts in your 
head. Poor Theo ! I've been fretting about her 
too, in a different way. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 9 

JUSTINA. 

[Adjusti?ig the flowers with the aid of the mirror?^ 
Yes, but it isn't only Theo. I've been doing a bit 
of lying-awake on my own account, I can tell you. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 

Why ? 

JUSTINA. 

\Moistening her eyelashes as she again surveys 
her face.] Why, if this business had gone against 
my sister, it wouldn't have bettered my chances 
—eh ? 

Mrs. Quinton Tavelves. 
No, perhaps it wouldn't. 

JUSTINA. 

I'm twenty — oh, you know 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Nine. 

JUSTINA. 

Ugh, dash it, yes ! And this beastly scrape of 
Theophila's has been no end of a shocker for me. 
From to-day I turn over the proverbial new leaf. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
So glad, dear. 

JUSTINA. 

Just fancy ! I'm the only single one out of we 
three musketeers. Great Scot, Kate, suppose I got 
left ! 



10 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[ With a laugh.'] 'Tina ! 

JUSTINA. 

But I won't, you mark me ! From to-day I'll 
alter — I take my oath I will ! No more slang for 
me, no more swears, no more smokes with the men 
after dinner, no more cycling at the club in 
knickers ! I've been giving too much away ! 

Mrs. QuiNTON Twelves. 
l^Listening,'] Take care ! 

JUSTINA. 

[Glanci7ig rou7id,] Claude — back. 

Claude Emptage, a plain^ stumjjyy altogether 
insignificant young man^ enters — a young 7nan 
loith a pale face^ red eyelids and nostrils, 
dense looJc, and heavy, dep7*essed manner. 

JUSTINA. 

What news ? Any ? 

Claude. 
It's finished. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Finished ! 

Justin A. 

Don't tell me ! How ? 

Claude. 
rt's all right for Theo. Mrs. Allingham's peti- 
tion dismissed. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. H 

JUSTINA. 

Ho, ho ! Ha, ha, ha ! All right for Tlieo ! 
[Clapping her hands^ almost dancing. Mrs. 
Twelves embraces he7\] All right for Theo ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Isn't it splendid ? 

JUSTINA. 

Ha, ha, ha ! All right for ! Mother ! 

ma ! ma ! [She runs out, 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[To Claude.] You did wait, then, in spite of 
Tlieo's orders ? 

Claude. 

No, not in Court. I hung about outside, with 
Uncle Fletcher, to hear the result. [Sitti7ig^ loith 
a little groan, '\ Oh ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
I must say, Claude, the victorj^ hasn^t left you 
ver}^ cheerful. 

Claude. 
Cheerful ! Think of the day I've spent ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Yoit^ve spent ! 

Claude. 
Theophila's brother ! [Pointing into space,^ 
The brother of Mrs. Fraser of Locheen ! The 
brother of the witness in the box ! Every eye 
upon me ! 



12 THE BENEFIT OF TEE DOUBT, 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[Drily,'\ I see. 

Claude. 
Oh, Kate, I've felt tliis business in more ways 
than one. It has been a terrible lesson to me. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[^Smiling.l My poor Claudio ! 

Claude. 
[iVb^ loohing at her,^ No, don't pity me — 
despise me. Kitty, how easy it is for a fellow to 
imperil a w^oman's reputation ! 

Mrs. QuiNTOJsr Twelves. 
\^A7misedJ] Yes, isn't it ? 

Claude. 
We attach ourselves to a pretty married woman ; 
we lounge in her drawing-room, her boudoir ; we 
make her our toy, our pastime. Do w^e allow a 
single thought of the scandal we may involve her 
in to check us in our pursuit of pleasure ? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
\^Demiirely .1 No, I suppose you don't. 

Claude. 
Never ! 

Mrs. Quinton Tw^elves. 
" Perhaps you had better not come to tea with 
me quite so frequently in the future, Claude. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 13 

Claude. 
You are right ; you, and otliers, must see less of 
nie. [Turning to her.] And yet, Kate, I am not 
all bad ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood enters. He is fifty- 
one^ amiable^ pompous^ egotistical^ foolish. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Why didn't you wait for me, Claude, my boy ? 

Claude. 
Sorry; my brain was reeling. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Ifeeting Mrs. Twelves.] A very proper, a 
very satisfactory termination of this affair, Mrs. 
Twelves. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
It has been awfully reassuring to see you beam- 
ing in Court, Sir Fletcher. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Ha ! I daresay my attitude has been remarked. 
Beaming ; why not ? Pve had no doubt as to the 
result. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
No doubt of Theo's innocence — of course not. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Innocent ; that goes without saying — my niece. 
But the result, in any case, would have been much 
the same, I venture to think. 



14 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Really ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
You see, my own public position, if I may speak 

of it 

Mrs. Quintoist Twelves. 
Oh, yes. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\^SmiU7ig.'] And I liappen to know the judge — 
slightly, perhaps ; but there it is. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
But judges are not influenced by considerations 
of that kind ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Heaven forbid I should say a word against our 
method of administering law in this country. The 
House knows my opinion of tlie English Judicial 
Bencl). At the same time, judges are mortal — I 
have never concealed tliat from myself ; and Sir 
William and I have met. [To Claude.] You saw 
the judge look at me this morning, Claude ? 

Claude. 
No. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
No ? Oh, yes, and I half-smiled in return. 
Yesterday I couldn't catch his eye, but to-day 
I've been half-smiling at him all through the pro- 
ceedings. 

JtrsTiNA runs m, seats herself at the pianoforte^ and 
thumps out the Wedding March. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 15 

JUSTINA. 

Well, Uncle Fletcher ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Ah ! ha ! 

JUSTINA. 

What price Mrs. Allingham ? 

Mrs. Emptage retrurns. She has relieved the heavi- 
ness of her dress hy a fichu o/* crepe de sole. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
\^Embracing Claude.] My darling ! \EmhraC' 
ing Sir Fletcher.] Oh, my dear Fletcher ! Be 
quiet, 'Tina ! 

[Justin A plays the air of a popular music- 
hall melody softly ; Mrs. Twelves 
comes to her. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I told you so — hey ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
We all said so. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
But I have been most emphatic 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Where are Theo and Alec ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
They went over to Sir John Clarkson's cham- 
bers directly the case concluded — I fancy, to con- 



16 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

suit him on some little point that had arisen. I 
managed to get one word 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Impulsively kissing Mrs. Twelves.] I'm 
so happy ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I contrived to get just one word with Alec as 
lie was putting Theophila into the carriage. I 
wanted to tell him 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Pacing the room^ humming the air played by 
JusTiNA.] Tra, la, la ! la, la ! tra, la, la ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I w^anted to tell him an amusing story I'd heard 
during the lunclieon interval, but he hadn't time 
to Ha, ha ! It's a legal anecdote. It ap- 
pears that a fellow of the name of Babbitt once 
brought an action 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Did the judge apologise, Fletcher ? 

[ JusTiNA staphs playing. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

Apologise ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
To Theophila ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
A judge never apologises. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 17 

Mrs. Emptage. 
He might do worse, where such undeserved 
distress is occasioned a young Avife and her 

husband 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Hear, hear ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
To say nothing' of her mother ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I surmise that the judgment of my friend Sir 
William was very strongly worded, and I daresay 
an expression of regret followed from Mrs. Ailing- 
ham's counsel. But I had quitted the Court, you 

know 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Oh, yes ; Theo wrote you a note 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
But you are losing my anecdote. It appears 

that a man of the name of Babbitt One 

thing, Muriel, I will stake my reputation upon. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Peepinff out at the side of the ^oiiidoio blind,] 
What's that? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
That the public applauded the decision roundly. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Pacing the room again.'] I can hear them 
doing it ! Bravo, Mrs. Fraser ! Eh, girls ? 



IB THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Plucky Mrs. Fraser ! 

JUSTINA. 

How jolly to have been there just then ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
As a matter of fact, I talked with several 
strangers of a humble rank of life, and hinted that 
a few cheers — so regrettable and unseemly in a 
court of law as a rule — I hinted that a few cheers 
would undoubtedly be justifiable in the present in. 
stance, as well as peculiarly agreeable to me. It 
seems that Babbitt 

HoRTON enters loith a card, 

Mrs, Emptage. 
\^After glancing cit the card.] Oh 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Eh! 

JUSTINA. 

What's up ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[To HoRTON.] Where is Mrs. Cloys? 

[Sir Fletcher, Justin a, and Claude rise 
preci2ntately . 

HoRTON. 

In the morning-room, ma'am. She preferred— — 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 19 

Mrs. Emptage. 

[Talcing the cc/rd^.] I — I — someone will come to 
her. [HoRTON retires. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Harriet here ! 

JUSTINA. 

By Jove ! 

* Claude. 
[Making for the door.^ No ; she is too impos- 
sible. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Intercepting* hi77i .] Claude, I dare yoii to leave 
the house ! 

[Sir Fletcher also moves to^oards the door, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Stop2nng him.] Fletcher, you mustn't ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Muriel, I distinctly prefer not to meet 

Mrs. Emptage. 
But I must have every support ; I am unequal 
to it otherwise. Who will fetch her upstairs? 
Fletcher, dear ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
In your establishment ! Singularly inappro- 
priate ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 

[Ttiryiing to Justixa.] Justina 



20 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

JUSTINA. 

No, thanks, ma. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Brntes, all of you ! [^She hurries out. 

JUSTIISTA. 

Confound her ! 

Claude. 

I shall submit to none of her airs. What is a 
bishop ? 

Sir Fletcher Portvvood. 
Why does she select this occasion 

JUSTINA. 

It's nearly ten years since she washed her hands 
of us. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

Exactly eleven years have elapsed since mj^ sis- 
ter Harriet placed it out of my power to continue 
on a footing of brotherly intercourse with her. 

Claude. 

[7b Mrs. Twelves, in a whisper.^ I know the 
story. 

JUSTINA. 

[To him.'] S-s-sh! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Her behaviour on that one memorable afternoon 
proved that her marriage to a dignitary of the 
Church was something worse than a fluke — a 
sacrilege. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 21 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[ Quietly to Claude.] What is it ? 

Claude. 
[Quietly to her.] She called liim a Bore. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[Going to JusTiNA."] Do you think I could 
steal downstairs and get away ? She used to tell 
me I was an empty-headed little fool. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Outrageous ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
And predicted I should end badly. 

JUSTINA. 

Well, you haven't. 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
No, but there's time, slie'd say. [ Going tov)ards 
the doorj] I'm off. 

JUSTINA. 

Sneak ! 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[Returnhig hastily^] They're coming up ! 

. JUSTINA. 

Let 'em I 



22 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Mbs. Cloys enters^ and stands surveying the 
room, Mrs. Emptage follows her. Mrs. 
Cloys is about fifty -three^ handsome^ dignifi^ed 
in hearing^ richly hut soberly dressed, in 
maimer a mixture of sweetness and acerbity, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Justina — is it ? 

JUSTINA. 

[ Going to her,] How do you do, Aunt Harriet ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ICissing her, then eyeing her keenly^ H'm ! 
youh^e not married yet, I believe ? 

Justina. 
No, I haven't the slightest inclination that way. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Oh, my dear, you still tell fibs, then ! 

Justina. 
Indeed, aunt ? 

[Justina retires ; Sir Fletcher advances, 
Mrs. Cloys kisses him, then looks 
him up and down, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Well, Fletcher, so they've knighted you, have 
they? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Lord Cranbery was gracious enough to recom- 
mend 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 23 

Mrs. Cloys. 
How much did it cost you ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Cost me ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Well, you've made money ; I suppose 3^ou could 
afford it. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Pray let us 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Don't puff 3^ourself out at me, Fletcher. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I am doing nothing of tlie kind, Harriet. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Then don't. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Er — how is the bishop ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Old. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Old ? Let me see — my marvellous head for 
figures should serve me 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Very old. 



24 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

Born in 

Mrs. Cloys. 
We're all getting old ; that's why you have the 
pleasure of seeing me amongst you once more. 
[Tifr7iing to Claude, toho botes stiffly.] My 
nepliew ? [^Shaking hands with him and looking 
him in the face searchingly.] You're rather old 
too. {Sharply.] Who's that there? 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
[ Who has been hidden by the Jlovjers on the 
piano-forte^ advancing with a nervous outburst.] 
Oh, I hope you remember me, dear Mrs. Cloys — 
Kitty Twelves. I was Kitty Powis, if you 
recollect. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I recollect. Weren't you at school in Paris 
with Justina and Theophila, and afterwards 

Mrs. Quinton Twelves. 
Yes. Isn't this interesting ? Quinton, my hus- 
band, \N^^ confirmed by the Bishop of St. Olpherts! 
I never discovered it till we'd been married for 
ages — I mean, weeks and weeks — [gradually quail- 
ing under Mrs. Cloy's gaze] — and then one day — 
he — he happened to see me kissing the sweetest 
photograph of you — and — and — and 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Mrs. Twills, I understood from my sister there 
was a purely family gathering here this after- 
noon 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 25 

Mes. Quinton Twelves. 
[ Offering her hand.] I — I have to go on else- 
where 

Mrs. Cloys. 

[J?etaininff her hand,] My dear, you were ex- 
tremely old when I last saw you, during your first 
season, in eighty something ; I pray, now you're 
married, that you are — younger. 

[ They look at each other for a moment 
longer^ then Mrs. Twelves withdraws 
her hand^ and^ after nodding to the 
others in a scared loay^ goes out silently. 
Claude follov^s her. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Sittiiig 071 the settee.] Muriel. [Mrs. Emp- 
TAGE co7nes to her.] We have been on bad terms 
for many years ; let us have done with it. I sug- 
gest mutual concessions to disposition and temper. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
\^Sitting.] I am sure I have been more than 

desirous 

Mrs. Cloy^. 
You have brought up your children abominably ; 
that was always our most serious point of dissen- 
sion 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I may remind you, Harriet, that Muriel's cheer- 
ful method of training her children has received 
my sympathy and sanction. On the death of the 
late Mr. Emptage ^ 



26 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 
Mrs. Emptage. 



My poor dear Herbert 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
It naturally devolved upon me 



Mrs. Cloys. 



S-s-sh !' 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I am not one of those 

Mrs. Cloys. 

S-s-sh, s-s-sh, s-s-sli ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Your twenty years of married life may have 
taught you iiow to manage a husband, Harriet, 
but 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Heaven has blessed you with no offspring. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
And the world isn't all deans, and canons, and 
bishops and things 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
A department of society you were thrown head- 
long into 

Mrs. Emptage. 
By the merest chance, as you well know 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 27 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Without, I fear, possessing every qualification 
for the — ah — the exalted station which — 

which 

Mrs. Emptage. 
And — and — and 



Mrs. Cloys. 
{To Mrs. Emptage.] There, there ! Don't I 
say, Have done with it? At any rate, we're 
gray-haired women now — I am, and you ought to 

be 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Now, Harriet 



Mrs. Cloys. 
And judgment has overtaken you 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Judgment ! 

^ Mrs. Cloys. 

This terrible calamity that has befallen your girl 
Theophila. Oh, how is it going to end ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
My dear Harriet, it has ended. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Has the case 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Mrs. Allingham's petition is dismissed — dis- 
missed. 



28 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mrs. Emptage. 
My daughter has emerged triumphantly 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Thank God ! {Rising.^ Muriel 

' [Mrs. Emptage rises ; Mrs. Cloys hisses 
" her on both cheeksy then tiirris away, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
You will see Theo and her husband in a few 
minutes. They are staying with me just now. 
" Weak, giddy mother,'* am I, Harriet ? My 
child flies to me in her trouble, nevertlieless. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ Wiping her eyes.'] The dear bishop will be so 
rejoiced. Not a newspaper has been taken at the 
Palace this week. [Iiesumi7ig her seat,] It has 
hit us hard. How did it all come about? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
In this way. I — — 

Mrs. Emptage. 
{^Sitting again.] Why, we've all known Jack 
Allingham for years 

Sir Fletcher Portw^ood. 
l^Sittiiig.] A good fellow — little dull, perhaps — 

little prosy 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[^Glancing at Justina.] At one time we 
thought he was rather inclined to pay 'Tina — — 



TSE BENEFIT OF THE DOVBT. 29 

JUSTINA. 

What rot, mother ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Oh! 

Mrs. Emptage. 

However, he married tliis creature, Olive 
Harker — daughter of a Major Barker 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
"Crummy" Harker — stout man 

JuSTINA. 

Four years ago tliis month. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Yes, in the summer of the year in which Theo 
was married to Eraser of Loclieen. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
My extraordinary chronological faculty ought 
to serve me here. Theopiiila and Locheen w^ere 
married in the March, Jack Allingham and Miss 
Harker in the following June ; I took the chair 
that year at no less than three public dinners 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Of course, when the two couples settled down 
in London the usual exchange of visits began. 
But from the first it was quite evident that Mrs. 
Allingham resented her husband's friendship for 
Theo. 



30 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mes. Cloys. 
Why should Mrs. Allingliam have resented it? 

JUSTINA. 

Olive was always a jealous eat — person. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
John is some months younger than his wife, I 
may tell you. No marriage can turn out happily 
when the balance of age drops ever so slight! j^ on 
the woman's side. My observation 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Rubbish ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I know my world, Harriet. 

JUSTINA. 

What was it that Olive said about that, ma? 

Mrs. Emptage. 
When the wife is older than the husband every 
fresh little line in her face becomes an acute pain 
to her, just as if it were cut into her flesh, and 
renewed daily, with a knife. Those are Mrs. 
Allingham's own words. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Poor wretch ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
In her storms with Jack she used to rave out 
these things, and Jack would repeat them to Theo. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 31 

Mrs. XI^loys. 
What business had he to do that, pray ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Well, his home had become such a hell that he 
fell into the Avay of rushing round to Lennox 
Gardens, to Theophila and Alec, to obtain relief 
from his worries. 

JUSTINA. 

He gradually became a sort of third in Lennox 
Gardens, you know, aunt. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
A sort of third ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 
The house-friend who is continually running in 
and out — - 

JUSTIIS'A. 

The man who has dined wnth you almost before 
you know it, as it were. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Oh ! And is this all ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 

All? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
All the justification a jealous woman has for 
seeking to divorce her husband ? 



32 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

Not divorce, Harriet ; she wasn't entitled to 
ask for that. Mrs. Allingham has been suing for 
judicial separation. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Well, well 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Accuracy witli me is a perfect mania. Oh, yes, 

that's all. With the exception of the — the 

[ With a wave of the ha?id.] However 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Exception ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I was thinking of the bezique part of the case. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Impatiently,] Yes, yes : but that's of no con- 
sequence now. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
B6zique? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Allingliam and Theopliila happen, both of them, 
to be fond of cards. And when Eraser was away 

in Scotland 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Away in Scotland ? J}^ot with Theophila ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
No, no ; she loathes Locheen. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 33 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I see. When Mr. Fraser was in Scotland and 
his wife was by herself in London 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Then a little liarmless bezique helped to kill the 
time. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Theophila and Mr! Allinghara killed time to- 
gether ? 

Mrs. Emptage, Justina, Sir Fletcher. 
[^In various tones,'] Yes — yes — yes. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Where was the time killed ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
In Lennox Gardens. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

At Theophila's house, in her husband's absence. 
I^that2i\\l 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Absolutely all. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
All the bezique part of the case. You see, the 
lawyers separated the case against Theophila into 
three divisions. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Three ! Number one ? 



34 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
The House-friend, as aforesaid. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Two? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Bezique — as aforesaid. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Three ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 

I repeat, surely all this doesn't matter now. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Number three ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Tannhauser. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
In Heaven's name, what 

JUSTINA. 

That was nothing. Alec Fraser was in Scotland 

as usual 

Mrs. Cloys. 
As usual ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
No, no — as he is often obliged to be. 

JUSTINA. 

'Alec was in Scotland, and Theo had been to the 
opera with pals 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 35 

Mrs. Cloys. 
With 

JUSTINA. 

Friends, to hear Tannhauser. She had sent her 
servants to bed, and let herself in with her latch- 
key. As she was closing the front door she caught 
sight of Jack Allingham on the other side of the 
way. 

Mrs. Emptage. 

He had had one of his terrible scenes with 
his wife ; they lived round the corner, in Pont 
Street 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
And a most charming house theirs was. I 
always say, with regard to Pont Street 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[^SternlyJ\ Fletcher! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Jack was in a dreadful state of distress ; pacing 



the streets like a maniac, in fact- 

JUSTINA. 

He's a very old friend of all of us- 

Mrs. Emptage. 
More like a brother than a 

Justina. 
And Theo begged him to come in- 



36 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
To calm himself. Simply an impulsive, warm- 
hearted act on her part. 

JUSTINA. 

And it wouldn't have mattered in the least if 
that devil of a wife hadn't suspected 

Mrs. Emptage. 
And planted her maid outside Theo's house — 
set of spies ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Till three in the morning 

Mrs. Emptage. 
When Theo turned Jack out. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Not foitr in the morning, as Mrs. Allingham's 
hlnndering counsel tried to establish. Ha, lia ! 
Sir John Clarkson bowled him over there ! Three 
sir, not four ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[7b Sir Fletcher.] Be quiet ! be silent ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Upon my word, Harriet 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[STo JusTiNA, who rises.l Go away ! You can 
sit by and assist at the telling of a story of this 
nature, single woman that you are ! [Justina 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 37 

walks aivaj/,'] What did I prophesy ? Years ago, 
what did I prophesy? [To Mrs. Emptage.] 
Now, pray, how do you like seeing your children 
dabbling their hands in this — this pig-pail ? 

Claude eyiters, 

Claude. 



Fraser and Tlieo- 



Mrs. Emptage. 
[Rising,'] Ah ! 

Claude. 
Just come in. 

[Mrs. Cloys icalks civmy ; Clavdisi joi7is 
Justina. 

Mrs. Emptage! 
[Iie2yressing her excitement.] S-s-sh, s-s sh, s-s-sh ! 
Let nobody make a fuss ; Alec hates a fuss. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
No fuss, but someone ought to play " See the 

Conquering Hero ! " Theo is so fond of a 

little fun — genuine fun ! 

[He seats himself at the piano and fingers 
out the air laborioiislg. Theophila and 
her husband enter. She is an elegantly 
dressed^ still girlish^ icoman of seven- 
and-twenty ; he a good-looking^ unde- 
7no7istratiije man of about five-and- 
thirty. Both are pale^ wear j/ -looking, 
and subdued, Fraser is gloved and 
froiik coated ; Theophila is in her 
bonnet and cape. 



38 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
l^Her hand twitchi?ig,] Well, pet ? 

Theophila. 
[ICissiny her mother m a spiritless way,^ Well, 
mother dear ? 

[Theophila goes to Justina and Claude 
and kisses them sile^itly, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
l^ShaJcing hands with Eraser.] A hundred 
thousand congratulations, Alec. 

Eraser. 
\^Biting his lip.] Thanks. [Standing at the 
further end of the piano., to Sir Eletcher.] Do 
you mind not playing ? 

Sir Eletcher Portwood. 
[Rising and singi7ig.] *' See the Conquering 
He — ro CO — o — o — o — o — o — um — ms ! " Not 
hero — heroes. No, liero and heroine ! 

[Theophila comes to him and hisses him in 
the same impassive fashion, 

Theophila. 
[Quietly,] Much obliged to you for sticking 
to me, the last two days, uncle. 

Sir Eletcher Portwood. 
My dear, as a matter of fact, Pve enjoyed my- 
self in Court. I am not exaggerating — enjoyed 
myself. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 39 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Theo, your Aunt Harriet 

Theophila. 

[^Turning.'] Aunt ! [^Adva^icing slowly to 

meet Mrs. Cloys — a little dazed.] I saw a figure ; 
I— I thought it was Kitty. Why, aunt ! 

[ Theg shake hands. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Looki7ig into her face earnestly.'] You're tired 
— quite done. 

Theophila. 
[ With a nod^ sittiyig on the settee^ Alec ! 
[Fraser ad\}ances^ My Aunt Harriet, Mrs. 
Cloys— ray husband. 

[Fraser anc?MRS. Cloys incline their heads 
to each other. Fraser then turns 
aicay aiid joins Claude a^id Justina, 
Sir Fletcher Portwood folloicing 
him. Theophila strij^s off her gloves. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Let mother take your bonnet, pet. 

Theophila. 
\Her head falling hackicard, faintly .] Oh, do ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 

[Iiemovi?ig Theophila's bo7inet.] In your 
bonnet all day again ; your head must be splitting! 



40 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

I know. Do you remember my head at the 
flower show at Eastbourne ? 

[Mrs. Cloys bends over Theophila and 
helps her to get rid of her cape. 

Theophila. 
Thanks, awfully. 

\^She takes her bonnet from Mrs. Emptage, 
and fiercely begins to roll it in her cape, 
as if about to crush them together, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[ Uttering a little scream, running round the 
settee to herj^ What are you doing ? 

[^There is a general movement. 

Theophila. 
[^Looking round.'] It's all right. [ With an at- 
tempt at a laugh,] Those things are to be de- 
stroyed. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Taking the bo?inet and cape from Theophila.] 
Destroyed ! They were new for the case ! 

Theophila. 
Sniff them, mother. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Doing so.] Perfume. 

Theophila. 
Phew ! I intend to burn every thread Pm 
wearing, and to have a bath before dinner. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 41 

Fraser. 
[Co7istrainedly,^ We were rather unfortunate 
in the case that is to follow ours. 

Theophila. 
Yes. [ILooking straight before her,] There was 
a patchouli business waiting to come on after us. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Holding the things at arni^s length.] Oh, dear ! 

Theophila. 
It had been flitting about since the morning. It 
sat down beside me at last. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
It? 

Theophila. 

It, it, it ! And it was wearing a bonnet almost 
precisely like mine ; and it looked to be about my 
own age, and could have had my sort of com- 
plexion if it had chosen 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Hush, Theophila^ ! 

Theophila. 
[Hysterically.] Ho, ho, ho ! these last two 
days ! 

HoRTON enters with tea. 



42 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mrs. Emptage. 

Here's tea ! Claude, help Justina with the tea- 
table. Tea is what Theo needs. 

[She hurries out loith Theophila's honnet 
and cape, Claude and Justina carry 
the tea-table and place it before the 
" cosy corner, "^^ Mks. Cloys sits with 
her head bent, Horton places the tray 
upon the tea-table and loithdraios, 
Justina sits in the ^' cosy -corner "^"^ and 
pours out tea. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Bustling up to the tea-table.'] Tea is what we 
cdl need. A most exciting day ! I've often 
observed how welcome one's tea is on a Derby 
Day 

Theophila. 
[In a whisper to Fraser across the table.] 
Alec, will you tell them what the judge said of 
me, or shall I? 

Fraser. 
I suppose it's necessary, 

Theophila. 
People heard it. Then the papers 

Fraser. 
Of course. [Agitated.] I — I'll tell them, if 
you like. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 43 

Theophila. ' 

Thank you. [ Quickly.'] No, no — I'll tell tliera. 
You couldn't do it — how coiolcl you ? 

[Mrs. Emptage returns, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Tea, tea ! [^Sitting.'] Alec, come and sit by 
me. 

[Eraser sits at a distance, his lips com- 
pressed, his hands gripped together. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Oh, fie ! all that way off ! You will persist 
in treating me as an ordinary mother-in-law ! 
[Eraser moves his chair a little nearer.] That's 
better. [^Triumj^hantly .] Well, Harriet, you see 
all my children round me — a happy family ! 

[Claude brings tea to Mrs. Cloys. 

Sir Eletcher Portwood. 
[Bringiyig a cup of tea to Theophila.] I make 
no excuse for devoting myself to Theo — on this 
occasion. [Theophila takes the tea and gulp)s it.~\ 
You looked charming in the witness-box — piquant. 
[Returning to the tea-table.] Piquant — just the 
word — piquant. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Now, Alec dear, tell us. Did Mrs. Allingham's 
counsel, Mr. What's-his-name, express regret when 
it was all over ? 

Eraser. 
Regret ? 



44 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

[Sir Fletcher brings tea to Mrs. Emp- 
TAGE ; Claude hrings tea to Fraser, 
the7i returns to the tea-table, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Regret at finding hiraself made the — the thing- 
amy — the vehicle — for such a malicious attack on 
Theo's character— the poor child. 

Eraser. 
[With an effort, 1 No; no regret was ex- 
pressed. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Not by the judge either? 

Eraser. 
The judge ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
The judge never said he was sorry to see a 
nicely-bred girl, so recently married too, subjected 
to such a — such a — such an unwarrantable oi'deal ? 
[Eraser is silent,] Eh — h ? 

Theophila. 
[Affer a brief pause,] No, mother. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
You were wrong, then, Fletcher, you see. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Holding up his hand,] Wait, wait, please ! 
I don't think I am very often out in my calcula- 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 45 

tions. [Tb Theophila.J What sort of demon- 
stration occurred at the close, may I venture to ask ? 

Theophila. 
Demonstration ? 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Did they cheer you much, darling ? That's 
what your uncle means. 

Theophila. 

Cheer me, mother ? 

[Fkaser rises abruptly^ placing his cup^ 
loith a clatter^ on the piano. 

Fraser. 
I — I feel as Theophila does. I must dip my 
face into cold water. The atmosphere of that 
place stifles one even now. Do excuse me. 

\He goes out; all^ except Theophii/a, look 
after hiniy sitrprised. 

Theophila. 
Mother dear — Uncle Fletcher — you seem to 
have a wrong impression 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Wrong impression ? 

Theophila. 
Oh, Mrs. AUingham's petition has been dis- 
missed — yes. But Sir John Clarkson and Mr. 
Martyn, my other counsel, — all my friends, in fact, 
— Wjere a little too sanguine. 



46 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mrs. Emptage. 

Too sanguine ? 

Theophila. 

Oh, mucli too sanguine. The judge was rather 
rough on me. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
What on earth do you ? 

Theophila. 
Rather down on me — severe. My behaviour — 
my conduct — has been careless — indiscreet, he 
says 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[ Under her breath,'] Indiscreet ? 

Theophila. 

Hardly characteristic of a woman who is prop- 
erly watchful of her own and her husband's repu- 
tation — honour. ^ 

JUSTINA. 

[ Coming forward a few steps.] Theo ! 

Theophila. 

l^Disjointedly,'] But at the same time, he said, 
Mrs. Allingham had scarcely succeeded in estab- 
lishing conclusively to his mind . . . oh ! . . . 
and he thought that even the petitioner herself, 
on further reflection, would be desirous that I 
should receive the — the benefit of the doubt . . . 
and- — and something about costs . . . 

[^She hreahs off; they all remain silent for a time. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 47 

Mrs. Emptage. 
This — this will appear in the papers ! Won't 
it ? Won't it ? [No one replies ; Sir Fletcher 
sinks into a chair^ loith a blank look.^ Can't any- 
body answer me? Fletcher, will this be in the 
papers ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
l^ConfusecL^ The papers ! No strong- 
minded public man ever looks at the papers. 
When I have spoken in the House I never 

JUSTINA. 

[I71 a hard voice.] Why, of course, a dozen 
papers will have it. What a silly question to ask, 
ma ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Adva7icing to Mrs. Cloys.] I hope you're 
quite satisfied, Harriet. You came here, after 
these many years, on purpose to witness this — 
[Mrs. Cloys rises.] — to see disgrace and ruin 
brouglit on me and my family. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Muriel, how dare you say it ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
I'm only a widow ! Everj^body is entitled to 
stab at me ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Tur7iinff away.] I'll not listen to you ! 



48 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Weeping,] Oh, oh, oh ! how glad our friends 
will be ! [ Going towards the door,] Here's a 
triumph for our friends ! 

JUSTINA. 

[Following her,] Mother 

Mrs. Emptage. 

[Pushing her aside,] Go away ! I don't want 
you near me ! 

JUSTINA. 

Ho! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Bristow shall attend on me. I shall lie down on 

my .bed. 1 shall have my corsets taken oflf 

[She disappears, 
Mrs. Cloys. 

[Going toioards the door.] Muriel ! 

[She goes out^ follovnng Mrs. Emptage. 

JUSTINA. 

[ With a gratirig laugh,} That's ma all over ; 
she always goes through this process when there's 
a family crisis. [To Theophila.] Do you 
remember, Phil ? 

Theophila. 
[Stonily,] What ? 

Justina. 
Directly the news of poor pa's death came, ma 
took oflf her corsets. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 49 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
l^Risiiig,^ I shall go oiio ; people shall see me 
walking boldly through the streets: Portland 
Place — Regent Street— [^?^ agitatio7i\ — Fletcher 
Portwood, with his head np — his head up, they'll 
say. [Hepaces the room, and comes upon Claude, 
who is sitting at the icriting table^ loriting a tele- 
gram, his eyes bolting and a generally vacuous 
expressio7i on his face,^ And you ! when are you 
going to do something in the world besides idling, 
and loafing, and living upon your mother ? 

Claude. 

[Hising, disconcerted.] What's that to do with 
it? 

Sib Fletcher Portwood. 

Do with it ? Why, at eigliteen I was earning 
twenty shillings a week, and maintaining myself. 
Now look at the position I have achieved, from 
sheer brain-force ! [To Theophila.] I shall not 
turn my back on you, my poor little girl ; don't be 
frightened of that. You were always ray favourite 
niece 

JUSTINA. 

[Laughing, a little icildly.] Ha, ha, ha, ha ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I beg your pardon, 'Tina ; I've no favourites. 
Can I buy you anything, either of you, while I'm 
out ? I may look in here again before I go down 
to the House. The finest assembly of gentlemen 
in the world. No patterns, or new music, wanted 
—eh? 



50 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Theophila. 
[Feebhj.'] Oh, no. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

I sliall uiue at the House, aud then sup at tlie 
club. All London shall see me. " Look at Port- 
wood ! " everybody will say. " Tlien there can't 
be the slightest foundation for this scandal about 

his niece ! " [^He goes out. 

Claude. 

l^Looking after hi?7i.] Transparent old egotist ! 
How do 1 know whether Pm in his will or not ? 
And yet I stand here and allow him to lecture me ! 
Me ! Ha, compare his education with mine ! And 
what real knowledge has he of Life, of Men and 

Women- ? [^Shoioing Justina his telegram,'] 

Is that the way you spell Bernhart ? 

Justina. 
\_Iieadmg the telegram,] No ; h-a-r-t7-t. What's 
this? 

Claude. 

1171 an undertone.] The Wartons wanted to 
take me to see Bernhardt to-night. Of course, I 
can't go noio, A marked man ! every eye upon 
me ! her brother ! [Going to the door, he meets 
Fraser.] 'Ullo, Fraser ! 

[Claude goes out ; Fraser, who is carrying 
his hat and gloves, loalks across the 
room, eyeing Justina. 

Justina. 
\To Fraser.] Do you want to speak to Theo ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 51 

Fraser. 
Oh — just for one moment - 



[Theophila rises ; Justina goes to her, 

JUSTIXA. 

Never mind, old girl. [ With a little laugh,^ 
Ha ! I suppose this has queered my pitch for a 
season or two, but — [kissing her'\ — never mind — 
[going to the doo?'] — tliese things will happen in 

the best regulated 

[She disappears. There is a brief silence., 
during v^hich Theophila closes the 
doors. 

Fraser. 
Have you told your people ? 

Theophila. 
Yes. 

Fraser. 

How do they take it? 

Theophila. 

All right — pretty well. Mother is lying down 
for a bit. She'll be quite herself again in a few 
days. 

Fraser. 

[Thoicghtfidlg.] A few days — will she? 
[JPartlg to himself.] In a few days ? 

Theophila. 
She'll have a week at Worthing. She's alw^aj^s 
had a week at Worthino- when w^e've been in any 



52 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOVBT. 

trouble. You've got your hat, Alec ; do j^ou mean 
to dine out ? 

Fraser. 
To-night ! 

Theophila. 
[ Wealdy^ Oli, don't be so sharp with rae ! 
All the way home from the Strand you'd hardly 
speak a word. 

Fraser. 

[^Sitting on the settee.^ I was thinking over 
what we'd been listening to. 

Theophila. 

Yes, the things sounded much worse in Court 
than they did out of it, didn't they ? 

Fraser. 
[His head boived,] Awful ! 

Theophila. 
How cruel it was of them to buoy us up by 
telling us the case was going right for rae ! 

Fraser. 
Manv believed it. Martyn was sure the judge 
was on our side. 

Theophila. 
When one comes to think of it, her counsel 
managed to put such a very queer complexion 

Fraser. 
Awful. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 53 

Theophila. 
Ob, I don't know what I felt like at some 
moments! I — I felt like a woman caught with 
bare shoulders in daylight. 

Feaser. 
Awful. 

Theophila. 
{Lookmg at him curiously,^ Alec, you seem 
to be — different to me, now the trial's over. 

Feaser. 
\^In a muffled voice,] Do I ? I — we're worn 
out. 

Theophila. 

[After some hesitation, going to the back of the 
settee,] I say! I want to tell you — lam — truly 
sorry. 

Fraser. 

[Raising his head,] Sorry ! 

Theophila. 
[ With an effo7't,] And I humbly beg your 
pardon. 

Fraser. 
[Rising and facing he7\] For what ? 

Theophila. 
Why, for all the bother I've caused. 

Fraser. 

[Resuming his seat.] Oh ! 

[She Staines at him for a moment^ surprised 
and disappointed^ then turns away. 



54 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Theophila. 

{To herself.] Oh ! {To him.'] Alec, I've 

had the idea that the trouble we've lately gone 
through, both of us, over this horrid business, 
might help to bring us together. We haven't 
got along over-well, have we ? 

Fraser. 
Not too well, I'm afraid. 

Theophila. 
A good deal ray fault, I daresay. Oh, I hated 
Locheen ! 

Fraser. 
Yes. 

Theophila. 

As heartily as you hate London. I'm a town 
girl, a thorough little cockne}^ — you knew it when 
you married me ! — and — Locheen 

Fraser. 

Locheen is a beautiful place. 

Theophila. 
London's a beautiful place. 

Fraser. 
No. 

Theophila. 
{Hotly,'] No to you, then. {Sitting.] I beg 
pardon again ; I didn't mean to bo rude. I under- 
stand how you feel. You were born at Locheen. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. o5 

Fraser. 
I was. 

Theophila. 

[Pointinff towards the vniidow,] I was born in 
Chester Terrace. I admit, Loclieen is all very 
well at a certain time of year. But to be stuck 
there when London's full ; when nobody but a 
poor relation, whose- railway ticket you send with 
the invitation, will come and look you up ! Oli, 
that summer you made me spend there just after 
we were married ! 

Fraser. 
I was very happy that summer. 

Theophila. 

You w^ere in love. And then, the pipers ! those 
pipers I 

Fraser. 

Duncan and Hamish were supremely ridiculous 
to you, I remember. 

Theophila. 
Not ridiculous, as you say it — great fun for 
a time ; but four or five months of Duncan and 
Hamish and their pipes ! To and fro on the 
terrace, for a whole hour in tlie morning, tliose 
pipes ! To and fro, up and down, all round the 
house, in the afternoon, those pipes. At dinner, 
from the trout to the banana, those pipes. And 
then, the notion of your persistently dining in a 
kilt ! A Highland costume on the moors — yes ; 
but in the lamplight — at dinner ! 



56 THE BENEFIT OF TEE DOUBT. 

Frasee. 
It is my dress ; I don't vary it. 

Theophila. 
Think of it ! A man and woman dining tSte-d- 
tete^ for months and months ; tlie woman hypped, 
weary ; the novelty of her nevv clothes gradually 
wearing off ; she feeling she was getting lean and 
))lain with it all, salt-cellary about the shoulders, 
drawn and hideous — [staring before her, her eyes 
dilating] — and, every blessed night, the man in 
a magnificent evening kilt ! 

Fraser. 
Surely that, too, was "great fun" for a time? 

Theophila. 
It might have been, if you had the smallest 
sense of humour^ Alec ; but one soon tires of 
laughing alone. No, there was never any fun in 
that kilt. It got on my nerves from the begin- 
ning — the solemn, stupid stateliness of it. Girls 
are subject to creeps and crawls ; I grew at last 
to positively dread joining you in the hall of an 
evening, to be frightened at giving you my arm 
to go in to dinner — the simple sound of the rust- 
ling of my skirt, against that petticoat of yours 
made the chairs, everything, dance. At those 
moments old Duncan and his boy Hamish seemed 
to be blowing into the blood-vessels of my head. 
And during dinner even the table wouldn't help 
me; I Avas weak, hysterical — I declare to good- 
ness I could always see through the thickness of 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 57 

the board — see the two knees ! [ With a back- 
ward shake of the head,^ Ha ! 

Fraser. 
Well, Duncan and Hamish — poor fellows — and 
their pipes, and the objectionable kilt — those things 
need never trouble you again ; at any rate, we can 
decide that. 

Theophila. 
Oh, no. Alec, we will go uf> to Locheeu in 
August 

Feaser. 
Locheen ! 

Theophila. 
Wait ! you haven't heard. [She changes her 
j)ositio7i, sitting beside him ; he not responsive, 
almost shrinking from her,] Alec — Alec dear — 
[leanhig her head against his shoidder^ — I intend 
to be good in the future, so very good. 

Fraser. 
What do you mean — good? 

Theophila. 
I intend to get on well with you, wherever we 
may be — I loill get on well with you. I've been 
babyish and silly all my life ; I'm seven-and- 
twenty ; I'm an old woman ; I've sown my wild 
oats now. 

Fraser. 
Wild oats? 



58 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Theophila. 

Forty-four pounds to tlie busbel. And so, 
directly we've fought our way — oh, my, it will be 
a fight, too ! — directly weVe fought our way 
through the Season in London, we'll be oflE to 
Locheen 

Fraser. 
The Season — here ! 

Theophila. 
Yes. 

Fraser. 
Theophila, there will be no Season for us in 
London, and no Locheen even for me, for two or 
three years at least. [^Rising.^ We're going 
abroad 



Theophila. 



Abroad- 



Fraser. 

Directly, directly. There will be only to-mor- 
row^ to settle everything, to make all arrangements. 
[Paci7ig iqy and doiV7i.^ The servants at Lennox 
Gardens will be discharged, the house let furnished 
— perhaps it would be better to let Marlers selTthe 
furniture, and have done with it. [Paiisi?ig in his 
tvalk,~\ I am returning to Lennox Gardens now, 
at once ; will you come back with me, or dine with 
your people and let me fetch you later on ? [She 
sits staring at him^ without speakiiig.'] Theo, please 
let me know your wishes. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 59 

Theophila. 
[Quietly,^ No, no — you mustn't do this. 

Fraser. 
Why not ? 

Theophila. 

Why, don't you -see ? We've got to sit tight 
here in town ; we've got to do it, to win back my 
good name. [Fraser agitatedly resumes his 
walk,] Of course, we shall be asked nowhere, but 
we must be seen about together, you and I, wher- 
ever it's possible for us to squeeze ourselves. 
[Rapidly and excitedly^] There's the Opera ; we 
can subscribe for a box on the ground tier — the 
stalls can't help picking you out there. And there 
we must sit, laugliing and talking, Alec, and con- 
vince people that we're a happy couple and that 
you believe in me implicitly. And when the Sea- 
son's done with, then Locheen ; we must have 
Locheen crowded with the best we can lay hands 
on — many that wouldn't touch me with the tongs 
at this moment will be glad of a cheap week or 
two at Locheen in the autumn. And we must let 
'em all see that I'm a rattling good indoor, as well 
as outdoor, wife, and that you're frightfully de- 
voted to me, and that what she charged me with — 
well, simply couldn't have been. And afterwards 
they'll go back to town and chatter, and in the end 

the thing will blow over, and — and Oh, but 

to go abroad noio ! [ Going to him and slipping 
her arm through his^ Alec, dear old boy, how 
could you dream of cutting and running now? 

[He-withdraws his arm. 



60 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Fraser. 
Theophila, I — I am sony to distress you — if it 
does distress you, but I — I've quite made up my 
mind. \^Passionately,^ We are going abroad. 

Theophila. 
I'll not stir ! 

Fraser. 
Would you let me go alone ? 

Theophila. 
[Recoiling.^ Oh 

Fraser. 
[Following hei\^ You see, you will have to 
come with me. 

Theophila. 
You'd be a brute to do it, Alec ! [Stamjnng 
her foot. ^ Don't you hear me? Can't you under- 
stand me ? You're not a fool ! I tell you we've 
got to try to convince people 

Fraser. 

People ! People shall not see me play-act- 
ing 

Theophila. 
Play-acting 

Fraser. 
Yes, before I go among people, to try to con- 
vince thon, I have to try to convince myself. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 61 

Theophila. 
What! 

Fraser. 
[Sitting.'] People ! people ! 

[^There is silence; she sloioly retreats from 
Mm. 

Theophila. 
You — you think there's some — some truth in it, 
then? \IIe makes no ansioer?[ It's true, you 
believe ? 

Fraser. 
I want time — I want time 

Theophila. 
Time? 

Fraser. 
To shake it off. 

Theophila. 
To shake it off ? 

Fraser. 
It was awful in Court. 

Theophila. 
\Partly to herself,] Awful. 

Fraser*. 
As you say, her counsel twisted and turned every- 
thing about so. When he cross-examined you to- 
day, and made you say . . . and then the judge 
. . . the benefit of the doubt . . . awful . . . 



62 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Theophila. 
[ Under her breath.] I see. 

Fraser. 
[Hising,] Yes — that we must go away and be, 
quietly, together. For the present, there's some- 
thing even more important than regaining the 
good opinion of others — there is ourselves. Will 
you come back to Lennox Gardens now, or shall 
I return for you*by and by ? 

Theophila. 
[Mechanically,] By and by. 

Fraser. 
[ Going to the door,] Nine o'clock ? or ten ? 



Nine or ten. 
Which ? 



Theophila. 



Fraser. 



Theophila. 
It doesn't matter. [JSe goes out. For a f^w 
moments she remains quite still ; then she rouses 
herself^ and^ icith a blank looh^ loanders about ^ 
her arms moving restlessly. Suddenly she presses 
her hands to her brow and sinks into a chair^ loith 
a low half -cry, half-moan,] Oh ! Oh ! [After a 
short burst of crying she exa7nines her wedding- 
ring, removes it from her finger, and, giving a little 
laugh, flings it on to the settee. Then she rises, 



THE :^ENEFtT OF THE DOUBT. 63 

and with an air of determination goes to the lorit- 
ing table.] Very well ! Very well ! 

[She sits before the iimting table and icrites 
rapidly. At i7itervals she utters an ex- 
clamation ; then sings as she lointes. 
The doors are opened^ and Horton 
enters. 

Horton. 
[ Collecting the tea-ciq^s.'] Beg pardon, ma'am ! 

Theophila. 
[ Writing.] Mr. Fraser has gone out, hasn't 
he ? 

Horton. 
He have, ma'am. 

[Horton places the tea-cnps on the tea tray^ 
lifts up the tray, and is about to carry 
it out. 

Theophila. 

Oh, Horton, what became of the bonnet and 
cape I came in with ? 

Horton. 
[Looking off.] Mrs. Emptage lay them down in 
the next room. Here they are, ma'am. 

Theophila. 
Jnst give them to me. [Horton goes off and 



64 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

immediately returns with the bonnet^ caps^ and 

gloves,'] Thanks. 

[HoRTON arranges the cape over the hack 

of a chah\ lolaces the bonnet and gloves 

on the table, and loithdraios. Having 

finished her letter and addressed an 

• envelope, she rises and searches for her 

wedding-ring : finding this she slips it 

into the letter, andfasteyis the envelope. 

Then, keeping the letter in her hand, she 

puts on her bonnet and cape, standing 

before the mirror. Sir Fletcher 

enters, looking disturbed and dejected ; 

Claude follows, downcast, silent, and 

morose, and walks about aimlessly, 

staring at the carpet. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
{^Discovering Theophila.] Oh, going out, my 
dear ? 

Theophila. 
I want a little walk-— alone. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
To walk it off, eh ? [Ruffling his hair,] I find 
I can't walk it off ; I've been into the Euston 
Road ; I don't think I can be well. Fortunately, 
I have a box of most remarkable pills at my 
chambers. They are prepared by Gilliburton of 
88 Piccadillj\ Don't forget tlie number — eighty- 
eight. Two eii^hts. That's my system of artificial 
memory. Eighty-eight — two eights. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 65 

Theophila. 
[ Going to him and kissing him^ leaning across 
the settee.^ Good-bye, uncle. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
We shall meet again by and by, dear. I shall 
dine here quietly, after all. 

Theophila. 
[ Ooing to Claude, kissing him.] Good-bye. 

Claude. 
Oh, you'll see me at dinner too. 

Theophila. 
[Ha7iding him the letter,] Give that to 'Tina, 
\vill you ? Claude — take care of mother. 

Claude. 
[Mildlg surp7*ised,] Take care of motier ! 

Theophila. 
Yes, be a good boy, and look after her. Ta, ta! 

[She goes out, 
Claude. 
Boy ! 77iy boyhood is long past. [Pi7iching the 
eiivelope,] There's coin in this — money. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Sitti7ig 071 the settee^ fatigued,] Eh ? Don't 
forget, Claude — Gilliburton. Think of Gilly, cor- 
ruption of Gilbert. Gilbert, a well-known 
sculptor — or writer ; I forget which. Burton, 



QQ THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

man I jobbed two horses from — bays — Burton. 
There you have Gilly and Burton — Gilliburton. 
My own system of mnemonics. Memoria technica. 

Claude. 
It's not a coin ; it's a ring. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\^Irritably,^ What are you talking about, ray 
boy? You always appear to be masticating some 
commonplace or other. 

HoRTON appears, 

HORTON. 

Beg pardon, Sir Fletcher. Mrs. Cloys wants to 
wish you good-day, Sir Fletcher. I wasn't aware 
Avhere you was, Sir Fletcher. 

Claude. 
[ Giving the letter to Horton.] Miss Justina. 

[HoRTON withdraws. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Rising.'] I'd quite forgotten your aunt. Do, 
please, look unconcerned, Claude. Let her see that 
men can display courage and decision at such 
moments. 

[JSum^ning an air, he unbitttons his coat 
and throics it hack, sticking his thumbs 
hi his loaistcoat pockets. Some 7iews- 
papers fall from the breast of his coat ; 
he is hastily picking them up when 
Mrs. Cloys enters. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 67 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Meekly,^ You are going, Harriet ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Fletcher, you've been out to buy evening papers! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[^Patting them into his tail pockets,^ The mali- 
cious utterances of the judge are not in these 
editions. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I thought you never ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
It is somebody's duty to overlook the reports of 
this case. I see that one vile placard announces, 
" Lively cross-examination of Mrs. Fraser," 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Lively ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\^Producing a netvspaper,'] Here's a rag which 
dares to give illustrations — "Sketches in Court." 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Have you contrived to get among them ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[ Opening the paper,'] I happen to he among 
them. But the fool of an artist has completely 

missed my salient points 

JusTiNA runs in with Theophila's letter^ opened, 
and the wedding-ring. 



68 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

JuSTliS^A. 

Aunt! oh, I say! What do you think? 
Theo's gone. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
She's gone out for a walk. [To Mrs. Cloys.] 
Here it is. That's from an old photograph ; I 
don't wear that sort of collar 7iovj, 

JUSTINA. 

[Advancing between Mrs. Cloys and Sir 
Fletcher.] What are you talking about ? Look 
here ! [Iieading,'\ " ' Tina, hand enclosed to my 
husband when he comes back for me to-night 
after dinner." [Showing the rijig.] It's her wed- 
ding-ring. [Readi?ig.] "He believes that what 
that creature charged me with is true, and wants 
to take me away and hide me. All is up with me. 
Oh, those pipers at Locheen are playing into my 
brain again. Good-bye all. — Theo. P. S. — Jack 
AUingham would not treat a woman so like dirt." 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Agitatedly.'l I can't hear you. [Taking the 
letter from Justina.] Let me see it. 

JUSTINA. 

What shall we do ? We must do something. 
Uncle ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Confused,^ We must certainly do something, 
at once. Er — it is her wedding-ring, I suppose ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 69 

JUSTINA. 

l^Impatiently.l Oh ! Aunt^! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\^Encoimtering Claude.] Don't stand there, 
Claude, looking precisely like an owl. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Returning the letter to Justina.] Jump into 
a cab ; you must take that to Mr. Fraser. 

JUSTINA. 

\IIitrrying to the door.'\ All right. {Pausing^ 
What shall I do if I don't find him at home ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
If, if, if ! Why throw obstacles ? 

JUSTINA. 

I'm not throwing them. I merely say, what if 
he's out, or hasn't gone back to Lennox Gardens 
at all ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
This is a moment for action ! 

Claude. 
[^Sitting at the io7*iti?ig -table,] Ha, ha ! Avhat a 
hideous mockery the whole world is ! Life- ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Let us have none of your sickening optimism, 
sir ! and in the presence of your aunt and sister! 



10 THE BENEFIT OF TEE DOUBT 

Mbs. Cloys. 
[folding out ^ her hand for the letter,] Show it 
to me again. [Justin a brings the letter to Mrs. 
Cloys, who begins readijig.] "Hand enclosed to 
ray husband when he comes back for me to-night 
after dinner." 

JUSTINA. 

Ten or eleven o'clock. Where on earth will 
she be by ten or eleven o'clock ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
l^Going to the door,] I'll tell her mother 

JUSTINA. 

[Intercepting him,] For goodness' sake, not 
yet. Mother's no use. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Heading,] " P. S. — Jack Allingham would not 

treat a woman so like dirt." Jack Allingham 

[Sudde7ily] Justin a ! [Justina again comes to 
her.] There's only one very great danger. 

JUSTINA. 

Why, you don't think Theo would — take poison 

_or ! 

Mrs. Cloys. * 

No, I mean a worse danger than that. [Point- 
ing to a sentence in the letter.] That one. 

JUSTINA. 

[Heading.] "Jack Allingham would not treat a 
woman ^" [Staring at Mrs. Cloys.] Oh ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 71 

Mrs. Cloys. 
This Mr. Allingham ? Exceedingly kind and 
gentle to women — is that the class of man he be- 
longs to ? 

JUSTINA. 

Y— yes. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Suppose — suppose this wretched girl lets her 
mind dwell too much just now on Mr. AUingham's 
— kindness ! 

JUSTINA. 

Aunt ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 

\^Agai7i returning the letter to Justin a — vnth 
deci8ion,'\ Where does he live ? Where is he 
likely to be found ? 

JUSTINA. 

It's in the Red Book. [Pointing to the loriting- 
table.] Claude 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Bring me the Red Book ! [Claude Jinds the 
Heel Book; he and Sir Fletcher Portwood 
search for the address.'] Allingham — A — A — A^ — 
[ Finding the letter?^ A ! 

Claude. 

You're looking at " Ashley Gardens " 

[Mrs. Cloys and Justina join Sir 
Fletcher Portwood and Claude 
impatiently. 



72 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

JUSTINA. 

I know it's there. He went into lodgings when 
he parted from her. And he has a little cottage 
in Surrey 

Claude. 
[Mndmff the name,] " Allingham ! '' 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Taking the hook froyn him.'] "AUinghara, 
John Crawshaw, Esq., 11 Bentham Street, W., 
and Turf and Garrick Clubs. — The Lichens, 
Epsom, Surrey." 

[Mrs. Cloys takes the hook from Sir 
Fletcher. She tears out the page 
and throws the hook upon the settee, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Folding the extracted page, and slipping it into 
her glove.] Fletcher, Claude, you had better 
come with me. I may want you both. Claude, 
whistle a four-wheeled cab. You hear me ! 

[Claude goes out. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
But, Harriet, do you seriously, soberly, enter- 
tain the notion ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Get your hat ! [Sir Fletcher goes out. Mrs. 

Cloys tur7is to Justina.] Telegraph to the 

Bishop of St. Olplierts, The Palace, St. Olpherts : 

"Detained here to-night. Return, D. V., fore- 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT V3 

noon to-morrow. Get to bed early. Affectionate 
messages. — H." 

[7%e sound of a cah-iohistle^ tioice or thrice 
repeated^ is heard. 

, Justin A. 
" Detained here to-night. Return forenoon to- 
morrow " 

Mrs. Cloys. 
"D. V." 

JUSTINA. 

" D. V. Go to bed early " 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Say, "Be in bed by eleven." 

JUSTINA. 

Yes. " Love- " 

Mrs. Cloys. 

No, no — " Affectionate messages." 

JUSTINA. 

"Affectionate messages. — H." 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Thank you. 

JUSTINA. 

Aunt ! When I see Alec Fraser, am I to say 
anything — about what you are doing ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
For mercy's sake, don't put any idea into his 



14: THE BENEFIT OF TEE DOUBT, 

head that isn't there already ! Not a word to a 
soul 

Claude appears in the doorway, hat in hand. 

Claude. 
Cab, aunt. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I'm coming. [Claude loithdraws.^ Not a 
word, except that we've gone out, blindly, to try 
and find her. 

JUSTINA. 

Wait ! you must tell me ; do you suspect that 
Theophila is — guilty ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\^LooM7ig at her steadily,] Woman, what do 
you suspect ? 

JUSTINA. 

[^Falteringly,] Then I can't understand you. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Why not, pray ? 

JUSTINA. 

I've always taken you for one of those who pick: 
up their skirts and stalk away as far as possible 
from this kind of thing. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Ah, you don't — [moved'] — oh, my dear ! 

JuSTINA. 

What? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 75 

Mrs. Cloys. 
You don't know what was really at the bottom 
of all ray quarrels with your mother. I've no 
children. I'd have given the world if Theo had 
been mine. 

JUSTINA. 

{A little bitterly,^ - Theo ! Theo ! 

Mes. Cloys. 
l^TaJcing her by the shoulder ^ almost shaking 
her,] You, too ! [JTissing her,] Bless you, 
you'd have been better than nothing ! 

l^She goes out, Justin a stands^ her lips 
partedy stariiig into space. 



END OF THE FIRST ACT. 



THE SECOND ACT. 

The Scene represents a room in Mr. Allingham's 
cottage at Epsom, On the left-hand side is a 
fireplace^ with afire hurniyig ; above this is a 
door giving on to the hall ; while below it is 
a similar door, over lohich hangs a portihre^ 
drawn aside, admitting to the dining-room,. 
Facing us is a large open French window ; 
and beyond is a vieio of a pretty garden with 
trees, laurels, etc. On the right, also facing 
%is, but nearer, are afeio balustered steps lead- 
ing to an arched opening lohich is about three 
feet from the ground. The opening, across 
which runs a rod supporting a portiere, admits 
to a small room, lohich, although containing 
no books that are visible, is called the library. 
All the furniture and accessories are charac- 
teristic of a well-to-do bachelor\s residence. It 
is tioilight. 

Denzil Shafto and Peter Elphick, tioo loell- 
groomed, smart-looking men of about five-and- 
thirty, dressed, for dinner, are shoxmi in by 
QuAiFE, a manservant, Quaife is carrying 
a banjo in a case, 

Shafto. 
Wliat time did Mr. Allinghara get down ? 

76 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 11 

QUAIFE. 

[Placi?ig the banjo on the table.] Half an hour 
ago, sir; I'm now dressing him. [To Elphick.] 
Glad you brought the banjo, Mr. Elphick. 

Elphick. 
[A heavy-looJcing man with staring eyes — tak- 
ing the banjo from its case with great care,] 
Nearly made me lose the train, Quaife, puzzlin' 
whether to bring it or not. 

Quaife. 
[Laying the case aside.] Do Mr. AUingham a 
load of good, sir — a little melody after dinner. 

Shafto. 
Mr. AUingham rather fatigued ? 

Quaife. 
Never saw him so played out, sir. [ Closing the 
windoics.] Oh, Mr. Allingham's compliments, 
Mr. Shafto, and he says he forgot to inquire 
wli ether you and Mr. Elphick would sleep at The 
Lichens to-night. 

Shafto. 
Not to-night, thanks. I've arranged to take 
Mr. Elphick on to my father's place at Leather- 
head. 

Elphick. 
We shan't keep you up here till the last train, 
Quaife, or anything like. Dessay Mr. AUingham '11 
be glad to turn in early. 



'78 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

QUAIFE. 

Not much good him turning in, Mr, Elphick. 

Shafto. 
Queer nights lately, of sorts? 

QUAIFB. 

Shockin', Mr. Shafto. [Quaife goes out 

Shafto. 
[Looking around J\ Here we are again, Peter. 

Elphick. 
'Pears so. 

Shafto. 
[ Wandering about.] This is ray first visit to this 
box since Jack came back here after his split with 
his wife. 

-. Elphick. 

And mine ; thought he'd sold it. 

Shafto. 
He merely let it, when he married — let it to a 
stockbroker. Peter, Jack must have had some 
sort of a premonition 

Elphick. 

Some sort of what ? 

Shafto. 
Premonition 

Elphick. 

Stoopid ass of a word. 



TEE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 79 

Shafto. 
Some sort of a premonition of his speedy return 
to single life. [^Lookmg out of the window.'] 
Same spotless white gate, I rejoice to see ; same 

ehns ; same laurels- \^Asce7iding the steps J] 

The library [^Enterwg the room.] My heart 

sinks within me. [JFro772 vnthin.] No, by Jove ! 
Peter ! Peter ! 

[Elphick goes and looks into the roo7n 
through the balustrade, 

Elphick. 
What's wrong? 

Shafto. 
l^From within.] Nothing. I breathe again. 
All tlie essential features of Jack's librar}?^ are 
undisturbed. [^Coining down the steps.] A lux- 
urious sofa, Ruff's Turf Guide, and the Stud Book. 

Elphick. 
[^Drearily.] Blessed if there's anything to make 
fun of in that. 

Shafto. 
\^At a table examining bottles.] Delightful ! 
Same soda water, same 

Elphick. 
\^Sitting, nursing his ba^ijo.] No, hang it ! 

J Shafto. 

[Poiiri?ig out a glass of Vermouth.] Vermouth. 
Peter, I was totting up things this morning, gently 
and quietly, in my bath. 



80 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Elphick. 
[^Blowing a speck of dust from his banjo.] Not 
really ? 

Shafto. 
[Se7'iousli/.] Yes. You weren't at Jack's wed- 
din' ? 

Elphick. 
No, I was up at Mahabaleshwar that spring 
with Sandington. You stood best man, didn't 
vou ? 

Shafto. 
I did. And look here — Jack AUingham is the 
seventh I've been best man to in nine years. 

Elphick. 
[Abstractedly.] Good figgers. 

Shafto. 
[J^rowmnff,] And they've all managed to get 
into the Divorce Court since, one way or another. 
j4f/er a pause.] How's that ? 

Elphick. 
Good figgers. 

John Allingham enters^ a simple, boyish man, of 
about thirty, looking pale and worn. He is 
dressed for dinner. 

John. 
[Shaking hands with Shafto.] Halloa, Denzil ! 
[To Elphick, shaking hands loith him.] Well, 
Peter ! It's awfully good of you fellows proposing 
to see me through this evening. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 81 

Elphick. 
Not in the least. 

Shafto. 
Speak for yourself, Peter. 

JOHX. 

I couldn't have endured my own company to- 
night, I can tell yon. Sorry you can't sleep here, 
though. 

Shafto. 

My governor hasn't seen Peter since he's been 
home this leave. It's an old promise 

John. 
I understand. [Taki?ig the banjo from 
Elphick.] And you've actually brought the 
banjo. 

Elphick. 
Well, when a man's a bit low, sometimes a little 

music 

John. 
Thanks. [To both of the77i,] Warm, yesterday 
and to-day, in that Law Court, wasn't it ? 

Elphick. 
Agra in June. 

John. 
Warm in every sense of the word, eh ? 

Shafto. 
Hell. 

John. 
[ With his hand to his brow,] Gur-r-r-h ! 



82 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Shafto. 
\^SharplyJ^ Now then ? 

Elphick. 
It's done with now. 

John. 
[^Recovering himself. ~\ True ; that cursed night- 
mare of an a])proaching trial isn't waiting for me 
upstairs, in tliat bedroom of mine, any longer. 
And to-morrow morning I shall wake witli a start 
to find — what '11 the feeling be like ! — that I've no 
lawyers to interview. Besides, I haven't much to 
complain of. You two fellows have kept close 
at my elbow through the w^hole business — hardly 
ever left me. Well, that's friendship — [shaki7ig 
hands abruptly, first vnth Elphick, then loith 
Shafto] — God bless yer ! 

[He ioalks away and sits on the settee, look- 
ing into the fire, Elphick and Shafto 
stand together, eyeing him uneasily, 

Shafto. 
\In a whisper, to Elphick.] Peter, our bags are 
here. What d'ye say to not leaving him to-night, 
after all ? 

Elphick. 

[In a lohisper,'] Yes, I don't suppose your guv'- 
nor wants to see me so desperate bad as all that 
comes to. 

Shafto. 

No, I don't suppose he does — I mean, we can go 
over in the mornino^. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 83 

John. 
[Looking upj] Eh ? 

Shafto. 
Nothing. 

John. 

[^Passing his fingers over the strings of the 
banjo.^ Yoii don't remember, Denzil — nor you, 
Peter, I suppose ; she used to thrum on this thing 
— well, hardly this thing — the guitar — much the 
same. Oh, yes, she used to play it very nicely. 

Shafto. 
[Puzzled,] Who? Mrs. Fraser? 

John. 
Mrs. Fraser ! No ! [Handling the hanjo 
roughly,] My wife. 

Elphick. 
[Hurrying across to John, taking the banjo 
from him.] Excuse me, old feller. 

John. 

[Starting zy9.] I was close to her to-day ; we 
stared each other right in the eyes. We didn't 
mean to — we simply did it. We met in the cor- 
ridor during lunch-time ; I was getting out of the 
way of old Port wood ; I turned sharply — and 
there we were, my wife and I, face to face. It 
might have been for ten seconds — it was like an 
hour. 

Elphick. 

Did she look angry ? 



84 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 
No. Downright ill and distressed. [^To both 
of them.] You've seen her in Court ? 

Shafto. 
Yes. 

Elphick. 
Yes. 

John. 
Yesterday ? 

Shafto. 
We said " IIow d'ye do " to her yesterday. 

Elphick. 
We told you. 

John. 
Oh, yes. To-day ? 

Shafto. 
Not to speak to. 

Elphick. 
She nodded to us this morning from the — what 
do they call it ?— -not the sink 

Shafto. 
Well. 

Elphick. 

Well of the Court. 

John. 



Denzil. 
'Ullo ? 



Shafto. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 85 

John. 
She was very pretty when I raarried her, wasn't 
she? 

Shafto. 
Undoubtedly. 

[John sits leaning his head upon his hands. 
Shafto walks away^ quietly^ to the 
window, ^ Elphick sits on the settee^ 
and, turning his face to the fire, strikes 
up a tune on his hanjo, 

John. 
That's right ! tune up, Peter ! If I had a sav- 
age breast this evening you might soothe it with 
your Tinka-tinka-tinka-tinka-tiuk, as Kipling says. 
But I haven't — isn't that odd? Boys, do you 
know, all the bitterness I've been feeling towards 
lier seems to have died out of me ; and she's been 
dragging me pretty thoroughly through the mud 
lately. Isn't that odd ? 

Shafto. 
[Leaving the loindow and coming to the back of 
settee,] Well, she's lost the day, you see. 

Elphick. 
[Ceasi7ig playing,] She's beaten; got nothin' 
for her pains. 

John. 
I suppose that's it. Ah, but her face ! I hadn't 
seen it for months. And the silence between us 
was so strange. 



86 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Shafto. 
Yes, there wasn't much of that, old chap, 
between you two when you were together, 

John. 

No ; didnH we quarrel ! And yet, this morn- 
ing, during our little deadly-silent encounter, slie 
seemed to say more to me than she'd ever said 
in her life before. By Jove, she has suffered — 

[^starting up] — oli, d it ! 

[Ife paces to a7id fro ; Elphick hurriedly 
resumes his playing, 

Shafto. 
[^Seating himself on the hack of the settee, 
speaking with a drawl.] Ah, I shouldn't worry 
myself too much, if I Avere you, about that. 
Other people have suffered. 

John. 
[Pausing vi his walk.] Mrs. Fraser ? 

Shafto. 
[Indiffereiitly.] Oh, she amongst 'em. 

John. 
[I7i a lov) voice.] Poor little Theo Fraser ! 
I'm forgetting her. 

Shafto. 
Forget all round, my dear Jack — that's the 
ticket ; for the future, cultivate a single-minded 
devotion to yourself 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 87 

John. 

And the horses ! You're right, Denzil. By 
the bye, I had a line from O'Halligan yesterday — 
where is it ? [ Going to a writing -table and 
rmnmaging among the litter there.] He fancies 
Kildaowen very strongly. The mare's feeding 
well ; that's always been their diflSculty, you 

know 

Shafto. 

[ Quietly y looking towards the window,] Jack. 

John. 
Eh? 

Shafto. 
Who's that woman out there ? 

[Elphick ceases playing, 

John. 
Where ? 

Shafto. 
In your garden. 

[John loohs towards the window ; Elphick 
rises and makes one of the group, 

John. 
^After a pause,] I don't see anybody. 

Shafto. 
She's behind the laurels now. 

John. 
[About to go to the loindoic] One of the 
maids 



88 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Shafto. 
l^Layiiig his hand on John's arm,] Wait a bit. 
[Goes cautiously to the windov)^ peeps out, and 
comes away.] I say, old chap. 

John. 
What's the matter? 

Shafto. 
I thought so. It's your wife. [There is a 
7nomenfs pause^ then an excited movement from 
John.] Stop ! [A pause. ] What are yon going 
to do ? 

John. 
[Dazed.] Do ! .... do ! ... . 

Shafto. 
Not anything stoopid. Jack ? 

John. 
[JEhcitedly .] Clear out for a minute, you two 
fellows. 

[Shafto goes up the steps and into the 
library^ draioing the portiere across the 
door as he disappears. 

John. 
Get out, Peter ! 

Elphick. 
[Going up the steps and pausing at the door.] 
Jack. 

John. 
What is it? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 89 

Elphick. 
[ With a7i empty exj^ression of face and voice.li 
Don't do anything weak. 

John. 

Get out ! [Elphick disajypears. John hurriedly 

glances round the room and arranges a displaced 

chair. Then he discovers that Elphick has left 

the banjo upon the settee, and he seizes it impa- 

iiently.] Oh [Goi7ig to the door of the 

library and drawing aside the portihre,\ Here ! 
Peter ! catch ! \IIe throws the banjo into the room, 
and readjusts the portiere. The instrument is heard 
to fall with a crash to the floor. He looks into the 
library, hastily,^ I beg your pardon, old fellow. 
\^IIe descends the steps and goes to the window and 
opens it, speaking in a low voice^ Is anyone 
there ? \A pause,] Someone's there. 

Olive. 
[JProm a little distance.] Yes. 



Who is it ? 

Olive. 

[Sternly.] Well ? 



John. 
Olive. 
John. 



Olive. 
Are you by yourself ? 



90 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

John. 
Yes. \^After a2^cc^cse.] Come in. 

[Se draws back to allow her to pass him. 
After a short delay she eiiters, and^ 
without looking at him^ comes right 
into the room. He closes the icindoiv^ 
but remains at that end of the room. 
Olive Allingham is a fashionably 
and richly dressed woman of a little 
over thirty years of age — X)ale^ icor))^ 
red-eyed^ but still handsome. In man- 
ner she is alternately beseeching and 
gentle^ angry and imperious. The 
twilight now gradually deepens into 
dusk. 

Olive. 
You have some men Ijere ? 

John. 
Shafto and Peter Elpliick. I asked them to 
clear out for a moment. 

Olive. 
What will they think ? 

John. 
[ With a shrug of the shoidder.] They can 
scarcely know what to think. 

Olive. 
[ Walking to the majitelpiece,] What do you 
think yourself, of my humbling mj^self in this 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 91 

fashion ? \Turning to hi?n.] What do you- 



[As she /las crossed to the left of the room, he^ still 
at a distance^ has moved over to the right, Speak- 
ing with a catch in her breath?^ Oh, don't do 
tlint ! I'm not poisonous, John. \^He approaches 
stiffly and silently. She advances toioards him 
plaintively,'] John, I am quite worn out — [put- 
ting her hand to her bosom] — burnt out here. 
This desperate lawsuit has been my last bolt. I'm 
finished — spent. I know my regrets won't avail 
us much at this time of day ; the future has a 
most melancholy look-out for both of us ; but I 
want to tell you I am truly conscious, at last, of 
the evil my jealousy has wrought. [^Sittiiig 
weakly.] John, I — I am quite reasonable at last. 

[QuAiFE enters, 

QUAIFE. 

Dinner is s 

\^He breaks off^ staring at Olive. 

Olive. 

Good-evening, Quaife. 

QUAIFE, 

\ Aghast,] Good-evening, ma'am. 

John. 

[To QuAiFE.] Tell Mrs. Quaife to delay dinner 
tor — for 

Olive. 
[Rising and turning away — in an altered tone,] 
Oh, five minutes — ten at the outside. 



92 THE BENEFIT- OF THE DOUBT, 

John. 
For a quarter of an hour. [^Shm^j^ly.'] The 
lamps. 

[QuAiFE loithdraios^ as if in a dream. 

Olive. 
yBitterly,^ I much regret keeping you and 
your friends from your dinner. It's an excep- 
tionally elaborate entertainment to-night, I 
suppose ? 

John. 

No, no ; it's of no consequence 

Olive. 
Dinner ! dinner ! If every woman in the world 
was weeping her heart out, men would be found 
dining — feeding — feasting ! Wliat was L saying 
w^hen Quaife blundered in ? Where w^as I ? 

John. 
\Loohing at her steadily /\ Quite reasonable at 
last. 

Olive. 
l^After a brief pause,, speaking gently again.] 

Oh, Jolin ! [Advancing a few steps^ It was 

inconsiderate of me to break out in that w^ay. 
But I don't mean half the brutal tilings I say ; 
I never did. 

John. 
You couldn't have done so. 

Olive. 
Any jealous woman will tell you what a slave 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 98 

she is to her paroxysms. Oh, they are dreadful, 
while they last ! [AgitatecUi/,'] The flame be- 
hind one's eyes, the buzzing in the ears, the dry 

tongue, the thumping of the heart [Calm- 

ing herself J breathlessly.] Thank God, I'm cured ! 

John. 

You've said something like this to me on other 
occasions. 

Olive. 

Never under such extraordinary circumstances. 
[Goi?iff to hi7n.~\ Tlie fact that I can drag my- 
self to you, in tliis spirit, after my defeat, for the 
sake of a few words with you, must show you 
what an altered woman I am. \^Sitting.'\ John, 
I felt I couldn't go back to that lonely flat of 
mine to-night without first proving to you how 
thorough my remorse is. ^Looking round.] 
That dismal flat ! \In an altered to?ie.] You 
appear to be extremely comfortable here. 

John. 
Oh, it's a little place — very cramped 



Olive. 
This is where you gave me and papa tea once, 
when we were engaged to be married. 



I remember. 



John. 



Olive. 

And now [Mccitedly.] Ha, I suppose I'm 

a fool not to indulge myself just as luxuriously, 



94 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

just us [She meets his eye and breaks off 

shamefacedly. Faltering^ with her hand to her 
brotv,] Where was I — again? 

JOHX. 

You were engaged in demonstrating how 
thorough * your remorse is. 

Olive. 
Oh, yes. [ Weakly.] After the case ended this 
afternoon I walked about the streets quite light- 
headed, til! I summoned up resolution to try to 
find you. [ With an effort.] John, that — that 

lady 

John. 
What lady ? 

Olive. 
[^Agitatedly.'] Mis. Fraser of Locheen. 

John. 
Yes? 

Olive. 
[Hepressiny her agitation.] Of course, the 
judge fully justified my action by the very 
severe way he spoke of her. 

John. 
His remarks were infamous ! I could have 
taken him by the throat and thrown him into the 
body of the Court. No right-thinking person 
would have blamed me for doing so. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 95 

Olive. 
However, he gave her the benefit of the 

doubt 

John. 

l^Scornfiilly ,^ The benefit of the doubt ! 

Olive. 
And paid me the compliment of believing that 
I would, as one woman to another, prefer such a 
course being adopted. 

John. 
[Pacmg to and fro.] Poor, wretched little Mrs. 
Fraser ! 

Olive. 

Wait ! Even Zsee the injustice of it. 

John. 

[Eagerly,] You do? 

Olive. 
Haven't I told you I am reasonable at last ? 
For whether she be innocent or guilty is no longer 
the question. 

John. 
I'm glad that is no longer the question ! 

Olive. 
The point is, this woman is entitled to the bene- 
fit of the doubt. [Rising andioalking to and fro,] 
But how can she ever receive the benefit of the 
doubt if those words, which imply the doubt, are 
alwavs to hano- over her ? 



96 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

John. 
That's it ! 

Olive. 
And they will hang over her — for ever. 

John. 
For ever. 

Olive. 
Forever. [^Turning to him,'] Unless I cancel 
them — remove them. 

John. 
You! 

Olive. 
I could, John — by my attitude towards her in 
public — in society. 

John. 
[Staring at her,] Why, certainly you could. 

Olive. 
[Leaning over a chair and speaking almost into 
his ear,] Would you like me to ? 

John. 
Like you to ! 

Olive. 
I want to atone to you, if I can, in some measure, 
for the suffering I've caused you. Would you like 
me to right Mrs. Fraser ? 

John. 

Oh, Olive ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 97 

Olive. 
John ! 

John. 

[ With emotion.'] If you were always so gener- 
ous — so good ! 

Olive. 
[Dravnng back suddenly,] Ah ! 

John. 
[^After a brief pause.] I've offended you by 
6a34ng that. 

Olive. 
\^In a hard voice.] You are evidently very keen 
concerning her. 

John. 
\^Bla7ikly.] Keen ! 

Olive. 
She's a vulgar, common little thing, I'm afraid. 

John. 
That's not true. 

Olive. 
Her people are common — excessively bad tone. 

John. 
Her people are now her husband's people. She 
is married to a gentleman. 

Olive. 
Mr. Fraser has been away from her as much as 



08 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

possible — [Jier eyes fladimg\ — yoa know that 
belter than anybody. 

John. 

\^Indignantly ,\ Why do you conae here — after 
all our struggles and failures, after the injury 
you've endeavoured to do me? Why do j^ou 
torture me, and insult me, by trying to repeat the 
old heart-breaking scenes ? 

\Ile throws himself into a chair distractedly. 
There is a pause ; then she slowly goes 
to a chah\ drags it toioards him, and 
sits beside him. 

Olive. 
\Panting^ Torture you ? Oh ! oh, I suffer 
too ! \Rocking herself to and fro.'\ Well, tliere 
can be no punishment for jealous women in 
another world ; we are d d in this. 

JOHX. 

\In a muffled voice, loith his head on his hands.] 
And tlie fire has burnt out in you, you tell me ! 

Olive. 
I suppose the cinders still retain a little heat, 
dear. 

John. 
[JBroke7ily.'\ Dear ! . . . . dear ! . . . . 

Olive. 
Yes. I know my actions are contradictory, 
but — [her hand stealing toivards his] — in my heart. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 99 

John — alwaj^s— in my heart \^The banjo sud- 
denly strikes up an air, John and Olive raise 
their heads and stare at each other ; then Olive 
slowly backs her chair to its original position. 
Spectking in a whisper,^ What's that ? 

John. 
Peter. 

Olive. 
Peter ! 

John. 
He brought his banjo with him. 

Olive. 
[Aghast.] Why ! . . . Oh ! 

John. 

[Blankly.'] Eh ? 

Olive. 

If toe hear the banjo with such distinctness 

[ They rise. He hurriedly ascends the stejys 
and disappears through the portiere. 
The micsic of the banjo stops abruptly^ 
and the sound of voices conies from the 
library. Quaife enters^ carrying a 
lamp whi(^h he deposits on the table ; 
then, ahoays vmtching Olive, he lights 
the standard-la 7np and draws the win- 
dow curtains. 

Shafto. 
My dear fellow ! 



100 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Elphick. 
My dear Jack ! 

JoHisr. 

S-s-sh ! 

Shafto. 
You might have remembered 



John. 
S-s-sh ! s-s-sh ! [^The voices i7i the library are 
hushed, 

Olive. 
[ComTna7iding herself and crossing to the fire- 
place,'] And how are you, Quaife ? 

QUAIFE. 

Very well hideed, I thank you, ma'am. 

Olive. 
And your wife ? 

Quaife. 
Exceedingly healthy, ma'am, for a stout person. 

Olive. 
I hope you look after Mr. Allingham thoroughly, 
all of you. 

Quaife. 
[J)ro2J2^i7ig his voice impressively,] We regard 
him as a trust, ma'am, if I may make use of the 
expression. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 101 

Olive. 
[Sharply,^ A what ? 

QUAIFE. 

A solemn trust, ma'am. 

Olive. 
[Turning away.] Stuff and nonsense ! 

QUAIFE. 

I beg pardon, ma'am, if I have gone too far. 

John retuims, 

John. 
Incoming doion the steps y a little flustered,] 
Quaife. 

QUAIFE. 

Sir ? 

John. 
Er— Mr. Shafto and Mr. Elphick don't dine. 

Quaife. 
Not dine, sir ! 

John. 
They have to go on to Leatherhead at once. Is 
tlie boy ready to carry their bags to the station ? 

Quaife. 
The boy can be worried till he's ready, sir. 

John. 
All riglit. 

[Quaife wUhdraios. John and Olive noio 
speak in y^hlsj^ers. 



102 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Olive. 
I don't wish this. 

J0H2^. 

They offered to go ; they'd rather go. 

Olive. 
Have they heard much ? 

John. 
Er — next to nothing ; a syllable or two when we 
were sitting there. That's why Peter struck up a 
tune. [^Laitghing a little toildly.} Ha, ha, ha ! 

Olive. 
[In the same loay.^ Ha, ha, ha ! [ Glancing 
toicards the door.] Shall I slip into the dining- 
room M hile they pass out ? 

John. 
Please don't. They're old friends of both of 
us ; they understand perfectly 

Olive. 
[Retu'niing to the fireijlace.] I'll face it out if 
you wish it. 

John. 

[Calling?;^ Denzil! Peter! 

[Shafto and Elphick sedately emerge from 
the library and descend the stejys, 
Shafto bows to Olive. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 103 

Olive. 
[Advancmg, shaking hands loith him across the 
table, graciously,'] Oh, Mr. Shafto, I am so sorry 
to upset everybody in this way 

Shafto. 
Not at all. I — ah — we — er — my father — at 

Leatherhead 

[Elphick, encumbered with his banjo and 
the banjo-case^ joins Shafto. John 
goes to the door, 

Olive. 
[Shaking hands with Elphick across the table,] 
Why should you lose your dinner ? I have really 
finished all my — my business with ray — with — 
Mr. Allingham. 

Elphick. 

[ With an effort, earnestly,] No you haven't, 

Mrs. Allingham. Take it up, when we've gone, 

where you broke off. [ Wringing her hand,] Do 

everything you've offered to do ; try and square 

things 

[John comes to him and draws him away 
towards the door, 

John. 

[To Olive.] Excuse me ; one moment 

|77i6 three men go out, leaving Olive star- 
ing before her. John, Shafto, and 
Elphick are heard talking together in 
the hall. 



104 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

John. 
[ Outside.'] My dear Denzil ! my dear Peter- 



Shafto. 
[ Outside,'\ Mj^ good fellow, we are not, at 
present, in the least hungry. 

[Olive rims up the steps and disappears in 
the library, 

John. 

[ Outside,] No conveyance of any kind to get 
you to the station 

Elphick. 
[ Outside,] Much prefer walking, I assure you. 

Shafto. 
[ Outside,] Good-bye. 

Elphick. 
^Outside,] Enjoyed seeing the cottage again 
enormously. 

[ The sound of the iwices dies aioay; a clock 
in the library strikes nine / John 
returns, 

John. 

[^Looking round,] Olive — Olive 

\^She reappears, 

Olive. 
You didn't tell me the truth. You can hear the 
slischtest sound in there. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 105 

John, 
I beg your pardon. Those men went clean out 
of my head. I was an ass. 

Oliye. 
[^Descending the steps^l And that idiot offers 
me his advice ! Take it up where you broke off ! 

John. 
At least, it's good advice. 

Olive. 
Where did we break off ? 

John. 
At Mrs. Fraser 

Olive. 

[ Walking up the stage, beating her hands 
together,'] Mrs. Fraser ! the eternal Mrs. Fraser ! 
Oh ! .... oh ! ... . [Thro'ioing herself into 
the chair facing the toindow.] I shall be quite 
calm in a moment. [Faintly.] Those men upset 
me. 

John. 

[Going to her solicitously.] To-day has been 
as exhausting for you as for tlie rest of us. Of 
course, there's a dinner prepared here 

Olive. 
[ Quickly, half frightened.] Oh, no, dear ; I 
couldn't sit down to table witli you ; I'm not 
entitled to do that. Fetch me a glass of wine and 



106 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

a biscuit. [Appealmgly.'] Don't let a servant bring 
it, John. [^He goes to the dining room door ; she 
rises a7id calls him,^ John ! — [her head droop- 
ing] — do you think we shall ever sit at the same 
table again, you and I ? 

John. 
[After a pause, sitthig^ looking aivay from her,] 
Oh, Olive, Olive! remember ! 

Olive. 
[Fidgeting vrlth the cigar ette-hox?^ Not for 
many years, of course — three or four years, at 
least. - Time makes the oddest things possible. 

John. 
[ThoughtfiMy,^ I suppose so. 

Olive. 
It would appear supremely ridiculous to the 
world, you're afraid ? 

John. 
Pish ! the world don't matter a d < 

Olive. 
[Softly. 'I Ah, that's delicious ! 

John. 

What is ? 

Olive. 
I haven't heard a man swear since I turned you 
out of Pont Street. [Dreamily^ almost in audibly, 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 107 

as she plays loith a cigfarette.] D ^! [lie looks 

round at her ; she is lost in thought ; saddenly she 
crushes the cigarette^ and flings it from her fiercely?^ 
Ah ! Theo Fraser smokes ! 

John. 
[Starting up in a rage.] Hali ! hah ! 

[He goes out of the room. 

Olive. 

[Following him a few steps, penitently.] Oh, 
John ! [T7ie7^e is a knock at the door.] Yes? 

QuAiFE enters, loith some cards on a salver, 

QUAIFE. 

[Looking 7*ound.] I beg pardon, naa'am ; a lady 
and two gentlemen woukl like to see Mr. AUing- 
ham, if it's not disturbing him. 

[She goes to the table and examines the cards. 

Olive. 
[In a hard voice.] Are these people friends of 
Mr. Allingham's? Have they ever called on him 
before ? 

QtTAIFE. 

No, ma'am. [Hesitatiiigly.] I fancy the eldest 
of the two gentlemen came once, if not twice, to 
Pont Street in — in — in your time, ma'am. 

Olive. 
I'll give those to Mr. Allingham. [He lays the 
cards out on the table.] You'll be rung for. [He 



108 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

goes towards the dooi\'\ You haven't mentioned 
that I am here ? 

QUAIFE. 

Oh, no, ma'am. I simply said Mr. Allinghara 
was engaged for the moment. 

Olive. 
Quite right ; thank you. 

[He loithdraws. She eagerly scrittinises the 
cards^ re-arranges them upon the table, 
then goes to the fire-place and stands 
waiting impatiently, John re-enters, 
carrying a decanter of champagne and 
some biscuits in a silver dish, lohich he 
places on a side-table, 

John. 
This is the Moet we had just begun to drink 
when we You rather liked it, I fancy. 

Olive. 
Some people have called ; they're waiting to see 
you. 

John. 

[Turning, '\ People — so late ? 

Olive. 
[Pointiiig to the table.] These are their cards. 

John. 
[Picking up the cards,] "Mrs. Cloys," "Mr. 
Claude Aylmer Emptage," "Sir Fletcher Port- 
wood." Mrs. Cloys — that's an aunt. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 109 

Olive. 

[^Stonily,'] An aunt ? 

John. 
An aunt of Mrs. Fraser's. What can they want 

witli me ? 

Olive. 
Isn't it curious ! • 

John. 
I assure you I haven't the slightest idea. I sup- 
pose nothing ha» happened to her ! 

Olive. 
To Mrs. Fraser ? 

John. 
Yes. 

Olive. 
Oh, no ; nothing ever happens to these women 
with fair and heavy eyelids. 

John. 
{^Biting his lip,] Really ? 

Olive. 
You will see them, I suppose ? 

John. 
I can't refuse to see them. 

Olive. 
May I — may I wait till they have gone? 



110 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 

Oh, Olive ! l^She loalks to the dining-room^ 

he following he7\] I won't let them detain me 
very long. 

Olive. 
[Hapidly, agitatedlg, facing him, her hand on 
the door-handle,^ This is a most extraordinary 
visitation. These three people — her relatives — to 
come down on you like this, at such an hour ! 

John. 
I am sure you will find that their visit admits of 
a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

Olive. 
I've no doubt ! 

John. 
You shall have the fullest account of what 
passes between us. 

Olive. 
How shall I know it is a full account ? 

John. 

[Leaving her.] Oh ! 

Olive. 
[Adva7icing quickly.] No, I don't mean that ! 
[Her hand to her heart,] Oh, do make some 
allowance for me, for my state of mind ! 

John. 
[Turning abruptly,] Have you the courage to 
meet these people with me ? If so, you can begin 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT HI 

to-night to cany out your promise to serve Mrs. 
Fraser ; you can tell her relatives now what your 
intentions are towards her. 

Olive. 
[Falteri7igly.] Certainly, I have the- courage 
to meet them. [Adva7icing tremblingly^ breath- 
lessly,^ But do you know where you are drifting, 
John ? 

John. 
Where I am drifting ? 

Olive. 
Yes. I mean — what position are you Avilling to 
give me before these people ? 

John. 

Position -? 

Olive. 
I couldn't submit to be treated as a culprit ; and 
there is only one other possible position for me. 

John. 
What is that? 

Olive. 
The — the — the wife. 

John. 
{Sloioly,'] The Avife. 

Olive. 

[Tearfully.^ Oli ! oli, I would try ! 

[^He leaves her^ and walks about agitatedly. 
She sits on the settee, vjeeping. 



1 



112 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

John. 
[Rather wildly.'] Well, I — I only want to 
cleanse the slate. My cursed stupidity has smeared 
poor little Mrs. Fraser's character ; I want to put 
that right. It cuts me to the heart to see how 
wretched you are, Olive ; I want to put that right. 
Oh, if we fail again ! 

Olive. 
We c — c — can't fail again — it's impossible ! 

John. 
{^Desperately^ throwing himself into the chair.] 
All right ! Heaven have mercy upon us — we're 
reconciled ! Ring the bell. \^She rises and 
touches the hell-press^ and with the aid of the 
mirror over the mantelpiece attetnpts to adjust her 
hair and straighten her bonnet^ he watching her.] 
By Jove, you have pluck ! 

Olive. 
To face these people ? 

John. 
[ With a short laugh.] I call it true courage. 

Olive. 
It's nothing ; I am so happy. Oh, John, you 
shall never regret this. 

QuAiFE enters. 

John. 
[^Rising.] Show Mrs. Cloys and the two gen- 
tlemen in here. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 113 

QUAIFE. 

Yes, sir. 

John. 
Tell them that Mr. and Mrs, Allingham are 
now disengaged. 

QUAIFE. 

Yes, sir. [^He withdraws. 

Olive. 
[^Turning sha7'ply.] Mrs. Allingham ? 

John. 

It wouldn't be quite fair to spring you upon 
them suddenly 

Olive. 
You've given them warning ; they may hurry 
away, to avoid me ! 

John. 
No, no — — 

Olive. 

If they did do such a thing ! [Agitatedly.] 

Gur-r ah ! I can't get my bonnet to sit straight. 
May I take it off, and receive them as if I were — 
at home ? 

John. 
If you would rather do so 

Olive. 
[Goifig to the dining-room door.] Is there a 
mirror in here ? 



114 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 

Yes. \^She goes out hiuriedli/,] Let rue hold 

the lamp for you 

\He foUoics her. After a brief pause, 
QuAiFE re-enters^ showing in Mrs. 
Cloys, Sir Fletcher Portwood, and 
Claude. Qltaife withdraws, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\After looking round the room.] The wife. 

Sir Fletcher Fortwood. 
The wife ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Who could have anticipated anything so extra- 
ordinary ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Walking about uneasily.'] Harriet, j^oui* 
theories and suspicions have involved us in an 
entanglement of— ah — an unexpected kind. 

Claude. 
[Moodily.] A reg'lar mess, I call it. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I wish your choice of expressions was a little 
happier, Claude 

Mrs. Cloys. 
The boy is right ; and we must get out of this 
as quickly as possible. 



THE BENEFIT OP THE DOUBT. 115 

Sir Fletcher Portavood. 
Yes, yes ; yes, yes. 

Claude. 
Bat I don't believe tlie woman will have the 
daring effrontery to show her face to us ; to ine 
— the brother ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
If slie does appear, Fletcher, how on earth are 
we to explain our visit ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Never explain, Harriet. I once explained in the 
House 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Devjl take the House ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Harriet ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Heaven forgive me ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
You are unhinged — not yourself. No, no, we 
must simply avail ourselves of any topic that pre- 
sents itself. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Mercy on us ! tliere's only one topic that ccm 
present itself. 



116 THE BENEFIT OF THE hOtJBT, 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I am not often nonplussed. You had better 
watch me closely ; follow my lead — tsch ! 

John enters with Olive, %oho is noio loithout her 
outdoor ajypareL 

John. 
l^After bowing to Mrs. Cloys.] How do you do, 
Sir Fletcher? [Nodding to Claude.] How are 
you, Eraptage ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

[ With a leave of the hand toioards Mrs. Cloys.] 
My sister, Mrs. Cloys. 

John. 
Mrs. Cloys, Sir Fletcher ; there have been some 
most unhappy differences between my wife and 
myself in the past, as you know too well. Unfor- 
tunately, she and I have not been the onlj^ sufferers 
from these differences ; we have dragged others 
along with us. However, we met this evening, 
half an hour ago, and are — reconciled 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\l7i a mu7*miir,] Very proper — very sensi- 
ble 

John. 
And I have my wife's authority for saying that 
her feelings towards Mrs. Fraser are now consider- 
ably — in fact, entirely But she will speak for 

herself. [Presenting Olive, aiokioardly.^ Er— 
my wife. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT HT 

Olive. 
[7b Sir Fletcher a??c? Mrs. Cj.oy^^ graciously.^ 
Pray sit down. [Mrs. Cloys sits again,] Sir 
Fletcher, we knew each other years ago 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I am delighted to renew — [inilliiig himself up 

uneasily ] — that is, of course 

[Olive sits 07i the left and Sir Fletcher 
on the right of the table. 

Olive. 
l^Addressing Mrs. Cloys.] Mrs. Cloys, it is 
only fair to you that I should say at once that I 
don't expect Mrs. Fraser's relatives to treat me at 
all tenderly over the painful proceedings vvhicii 
terminated to-day. [Mrs. Cloys boios stiffly; Sir 
Fletcher eyes her anxiously,] So I beg that you 
will speak before me entirely without reserve. 
[Looki7ig at John.] It is my husband's wish that 
you should do so. 

John. 
Certainly. 

[Mrs. Cloys and Sir Fletcher Portwood 
sit staring before them in a glassy 
way; Olive again glances at John, 
puzzled, 

Olive. 
\A little impatiently?^ Naturally, Mrs. Cloys, I 
can't think that you have taken this inconvenient 
journey to-night without some very special, some 
very definite object. 



^f 



118 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Er — so far as I am concerned, the object of my 
visit is in a great part attained when I have given 
Mr. AUingham my assurance that only absolute 
proof of his un worthiness will ever induce me to 
withdraw ray friendship from him. I am nothing 

if not a just man 

John. 
Genuinely obliged to you, Sir Fletcher. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

Oh, I am not ashamed of my simple faith in 

young English manhood and in tlie efficacy of a 

training at one of our most honoured public schools. 

True, I was never a public-school boy myself 

Claude. 
[Leaning on a chair near the v:indou\ with his 
hack to those in the room.l Ha ! 

[^AU turn their heads toicards Claude, 
surjyrised. 

Sir Fletcher Portw^ood. 
[Iiisi7iff, and going to Claude.] No, but I am 
still capable of rejoicing when I see tlie traditions 
of popular British institutions worthily upheld. 
The world was my public scliool 

Olive. 
[^Changing her 2^osition,'] Mrs. Cloys 

Sir Fletcher Portw^ood. 
l^Eyeijig Olive, and returning quickly,'] Er — is 
there a question more vital, more absorbing, than 



TEE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 119 

this great vexed question of Education ? Is there 
a question which calls more imperatively upon the 
attention of thinking men ? 

Olive. 
[Turni?ig to hhn with a forced Sfnile.] But, Sir 
Fletcher, you surely haven't brought Mrs. Cloys 
mU the way to Epsom that slie may hear you 
discuss Education with my husband ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Disconcerted] No, no. Good ! ha, ha ! good ! 

Excellent! Er [Sudde?7ly.] Now, this cottage 

— I wonder whether I may ask how many rooms ? 

Olive. 
How many rooms ? 

John. 
Twelve. 

Olive. 
[Between her teeth,] Twelve. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
The reason I put the question is this : my dear 
brother-in-law, the bishop 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ Under her breath.] Eh ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Looking at Mrs. Cloys signijica7itly.] The 
bishop often suffers from the effects of severe 
intellectual strain, and it has more than once struck 



120 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

me that for a few weeks in the year this peculiarly 

invigorating air [Going to the dini7ig-roo7n 

doorj] The arrangements appear to be most con- 
venient. May I? 

John. 
The dining-room. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[ 0]yeyiing the door and peeping into the room?^ 
Delightful ! I can picture the bishop sitting- 
there, my sister there, myself, perhaps, over there 
— delightful! [^Closing the door and moving 
aivay^ pointing to the other door.] The hall and 
the little card-room I have seen. [^Rapjmig the 
table,'] But the grand question is, Mrs. Allingham 
— would you let ? That's the point, Allingham — 
would you feel inclined to let ? 

John. 
Oh, if his lordship did us the honour of express- 
ing a wish 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
That's extremely good-natured. \^Trying to 
catch Mrs. Cloys' eye,] You hear, Harriet ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ With a gulp.] Yes. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[^Pointing to the steps.] And here ! 

Olive. 
\Struggling to suppress her a7iger.] The 
library — the library. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 121 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Have I permission ? 

Olive. 
Oh, by all means. 

[Sir Fletcher bustles up the steps and enters 
the library. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\^Out of sight. ^ Cheerful — very cheerful. A 
paucity of volumes ; but the bishop would bring 
his own books. 

Olive. 
[ Quickly.^ Sir Fletcher, while you are there, 
do examine the little clock on the mantelpiece. 
The case is modern oriental. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[ Out of sight. ^ Ah, yes, yes. 

Olive. 
I gave it to Mr. Allingham some years ago. 
Count those curious stones round the dial. [7b 
Mrs. Cloys, rapidly but forcibly, dropping her 
voice.] Mrs. Cloys, I confess I find it difficult to 
accept Sir Fletcher's suggestion that you are 
engaged at this time of night in hunting for fresh 
air for the bishop. I 

[ Upo7i Sir Fletcher's disappearance, 
Claude adva?ices and stands waiting 
for an opportmiity to speak. 



122 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Claude. 
[Breaking in in a holloio voice^ As Mrs. 

Fraser's brother 

[AllAiirn their heads tovmrds Claude again, 

Olive. 
[ With clenched hands.] Oh ! I am endeavour- 
ing to speak to Mrs. Cloys 

Claude. 
Pardon me. As Mrs. Eraser's brother, and as, 
})erhaps, the chief sufferer from the result of to- 
day's proceedings 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Ap2)eari?ig suddenly on to}) of the steps, 7w 
longer carryhig his hat.] What's this ? What's 
this? 

Claude. 
I refuse to be silenced. As Mrs. Fraser's 
brother, I desire to say that I did not expect to be 
received to-night by the \2idiy who has done her 
best — her utmost 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
S-s-sh ! s-s-sh ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Be quiet, Claude, please ! 

Olive. 
[Rising and going to John.] John, really 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 123 

John. 
l^Hotly.'] Look here, Emptage, you're a boy — 
at any rate, a very young man ! 

Claude. 
I am a truly unfortunate young man. A blight 
has been cast upon my name at the very outset of 

my career 

John. 
[^Blimtly,] What career? 

Claude. 
Well, when I am turning various careers over in 

my mind 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Enough. Claude ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
\^Comi7ig dovjn the steps?[ Why, when I was 
five years younger than he I had already applied 
my lever to the mountain. I first saw light in 

forty-four 

Olive. 
[7b John.] Oh ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Forty-four ; an easily remembered date — two 
fours. And what was I doing at his age ? 

Olive. 

Mrs. Cloys 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Go away, Claude ! 




124 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Claude. 
l^Retiring.'] Ha, at least I liave bad .the courage 

to speak out ! 

[Se throws himself into a chair at the back, 
aiid in course of time falls asleep. His 
head is seen to chop back upon Ids 
shoulder ; an arm hangs over the side 
of the chair. 

Olive, 
l^Advaiicing to the table^ imperatively^ Mrs. 
Cloys 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

I 

Mrs. Cloys. 

\Firmly.^ Excuse me, Fletcher ; I believe Mrs. 
AUingham is looking to me for some furtlier 
explanation. \^t:iitting .^ Mrs. Allingbam, liappen- 
ing to become acquainted to-day, for the lirst 
time, with several features of this disagreeable 
business, I thought — it was a fancy of mine — that 
I should like to meet Mr. AUingham — to talk 
over — to 

Olive. 
\^Sitting^^ To talk over ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
To thresh it all out with John — with AUingham. 

Olive. 
[ Quickly,'] It has not been sufficiently threshed 
out, then, in the Divorce Court ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 125 

Mrs. Cloys. 

[^Hastily,^ Quite sufficiently. [^Eyeing Sir 
Fletcher reprovingly.^ My brother doesn't 
interpret me correctly. Er — as I have told you, 
it is a fancy of mine — ^to meet Mr. Allingham. 

Olive. 
Just to make bis acquaintance ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\Steadily.\ Just to make bis acquaintance. 

John. 
\TIncomfortahly.'\ Very pleased — very grati- 
fied 

Olive. 
[ With a hard smile.] This is rather an odd 
hour for such a call. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
It would have been earlier but for a little diflS- 
culty in discovering Mr. Aliingham's whereabouts. 

Sir Fletcher Portavood. 
[Genially,] When ladies have fancies they 
don't study the hour before indulging them. 

Olive. 
I am afraid it is so in your family, Sir Fletcher. 
[Mrs. Cloys makes a moveynent^ but re- 
straliis herself. 



126 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

John. 
[In alow voice,'] Olive ! 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Er — the fact is my sister sliares with me the 
Lavater-like faculty for judging character at sight. 

Olive. 
Judging' character by face, manner? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

Yes. I possess it in a remarkable degree. I 

remember 

Olive. 

[7b Mrs. Cloys.] Oh, I see ! You are here to 
— to form an impression of Mr. Allingham ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Sir Fletcher a little exaggerates my powers ; 
but I may confess I am, like many people, very 
sensitive to receiving impressions through such 
mediums. 

Olive. 

I hope your impressions of ray husband will be 
to his advantage. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Looking at John.] I think I may say at once 
that they are not unfavourable. 

Olive. 
Because the necessity you find for estimating 
ray husband's character shows — you know what 
it shows. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 127 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Mrs. Allingham ? 

Olive. 
It shows, obviously, that if you are uncertain as 
to my husband's innocence, you must be equally 
doubtful of the innocence of your niece, Mrs. 
Fraser. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[^Risiiig,^ I — I beg that you will not put such 
a construction on what I have said 

Olive. 
\^Ri$ing.'] What other construction — — ? 

John. 
Olive, you are not keeping your promise 



Olive. 

\^Passio7iately,l^ I will keep my promise when I 

am treated openly and fairly. [ Walkiiig mcay,] 

I feel sometiiing is going on here that I don't 

understand, that I am not allowed to understand. 

John. 
[To Mrs. Cloys cmd Sir Fletcher.] I am ex- 
tremely sorry. But my wife is very fatigued and 
unstrung to-night 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Quite so, quite so. We are most inconsiderate, 
Harriet. Come— come ; anotlier time 



128 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Oliye. 
[Turning.^ No, no ! Mrs. Cloys 

Mrs. Cloys. 

[Facing Oliye firmly,^ Mrs. Allingham, I 
think, when we look back upon this evening, that 
you and I will be able to congratulate ourselves 
upon a considerable exercise of politeness. But 
there are signs that neither of us is equal to a pro- 
longed strain. 

Oliye. 

I beg your pardon ; I will be patient. You need 
have no misgivings on niy account. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Formidably.^ Perhaps not ; but I am begin- 
ning to be acutelv conscious of my own weakness. 
[l^ooking roimcl] Fletcher 

Oliye. 
[Angrily.] Oh, oh ! 

[She 2:>aces the room; 3oyl^ jotJis her and 
is seen expostulating, Mrs. Cloys 
joi7is Sir Fletcher. 

John. 
Olive, Olive, be reasonable ! 

Oliye. 
I will be, when j^ou and your friends are honest 
with me. 

[She leaves him^ as Quaife enters loith a 
note upon a salver. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 129 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Looking at his watch,] Oh, Allingham, the 
hotel people were to send a carriage up for us ; 
perhaps you'll get your servant 

John. 
Certainly. [To Quaife.] Quaife — what's 
that? 

[ Upon entering, Quaife has encountered 
Mrs. Allingham ; her eyes fall upon 
the letter 07i the salver. 

Olive. 
[ Under her breath, staring at the letter.] 
Ah-h-h ! 

Quaife. 
Ma'am ? 

Olive. 
[Drawing back and speaking to Quaife.] 
Well, give it to Mr. Allingham. 

Quaife. 
A boy has brought this, sir — waiting for an 
answer. 

[John is about to take the letter ; lohen he 
sees the writing upon the envelope he 
hesitates for a moment and draws his 
hand back ; then he picks up the letter 
deliberately. 

John. 
[To Quaife, calmly.] Wait ; I'll ring. 

[Quaife retires. 



130 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Olive. 

\^Poi7iting to the letter, ^^ Isn't that letter from 
Mrs. Fraser? 

John. 
\^After opening the letter.] Yes. [He reads the 
letter to himself.] Poor little lady ! This is bad 
news. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Agitatedly. ] Really, Mr. Allingbam, really ? 

John. 
Don't you know ? She has left her husband. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Er — yes, sir, we do know it — certainly we know 
it. I was almost the last person she spoke to 
before she quitted her mother's house. She is 
deeply attached to me. [Buttoning his coat.] 
Where is she ? Where is she ? 

John. 
I gather she is waiting not very far from this 

liouse 

Olive. 
[Breathlessly.] Waiting 

John. 

She — she wishes to see me. 

Olive. 
[Bi a low voice.] Oh, yes. [Sitting, her hands 
tightly gripped together,] Oh, yes. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 131 

John. 
[ Going to her and handing her the letter,'] Read 
it, please, Olive. 

Olive. 
[^After a paiise^ holding the letter between her 
finger and thumbs reading.] *' Station Hotel, 
Epsom. M}^ dear old Jack " \^Hastily return- 
ing the letter to John, with a shudder.] Take it 
from me ! 

John. 
[Headiiig aloud.] **My dear old Jack," 
[Jjooking rounds simply.] We have known each 
other many years. [^Readh^g.] " Oh, I have had 
such a job to find you. I shall plant myself at 
some quiet spot near your cottage and get a mes- 
senger to bring this to you. The messenger will 
show you where I am, if j^'ou will only consent to 
see me for a few moments o\\-^\looMng round] — 
on a matter of business.'' 

[Mrs. Cloys, concealed from the others by 
Sir Fletcher, siiiJcs on to the settee. 

Sir Fletcher Tortwood. 
Ha, a matter of business ! Of course, a matter 
of business. 

John. 
[Resuming.] " I have left my husband. He 
turned against me at the end and crushed my one 
hope of being able to whitewash myself." The 
cur! [R'csuming.] ''Am off to Paris the first 
thing in the morning. Very likely this is the last 
chance you will ever have of a word with your 



132 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

poor little friend, Theo." [Jb Sir Fletcher.] 
Sir Fletcher, I congratulate you on finding your 
niece ; please tell her that it is impossible for me 
to grant her request. 

Olive. 
[Calmly. '] Oh, but wait. [Rising,^ Surely it 
would be rather uncivil to refuse what Mrs, 
Fraser asks. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Rising,^ I can be trusted to explain 

Olive. 
But she is apparently in need of some business 
service which my husband can render her. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Now that she is again in the hands of her rela- 
tives there can be no necessity for troubling Mr. 
Allingham. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Not the slightest ; not the slightest. 

Olive. 
Perhaps not. But before such a very curt mes- 
sage is sent to Mrs. Fraser, will you do me the 
favour of letting me have two or three minutes' 
conversation with my husband alone ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I — I am anxious to go to my niece. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 133 

Olive. 
Two minutes. Please, John. 

[John goes to the dining-room door and 
opens it. After a momenfs hesitation, 
Mrs. Cloys goes to the door, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Tiirni?ig,] I beg that I may not be detained 
longer. 

[She 2^cisses out ; John follows her, leaving 
the door open. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Standing over Claude, shaking him,] Wake 
up, sir ! wake up ! 

Claude. 
[Waki7ig,] What is it? Eh? [Eising.] Hullo, 
uncle ! 

Sir Fletche^ Portwood. 
You've been sleeping, sir ; your manners are 
appalling. 

Claude. 
[Stiipidli/,] Where's aunt ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Leading him toioards the door,] In the next 
room. Come, sir ! You are deficient in tact, 

delicacy 

[John re-enters. Sir Fletcher passes him 
and goes out. 



134 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Claude. 
[^As he passes John.] The dining-room ? 

John. 
[7b Claude.] I shan't keep you more than a 
minute or two. 

Claude. 

\^In the doorway^ turning to John.] Allinghain, 

of course you and I can never again be the same to 

each other as we have been in the past ; but may 

I take the liberty of foraging for a piece of cake ? 

John. 
[Zaying a hand on his shoulder.'] Certainly. 
[Claude goes out; John closes the door 
and turns to Olive. 

Olive. 
{Facing him.] Well ? 

J©hn. 
[Adva?icing to her.] Well ? 

Olive. 

Oh, could anything be clearer? It's easy 
enough now to see through the twaddle tliese 
people have been talking ! Mrs. Fraser runs 
away from her husband, who believes her guilty ; 
her relatives go in pursuit ; they look for her and 
find her — where ? 

John. 

Her relations chance to be here w^hen Mrs. 
Fraser sends for me 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 135 

Olive. 
\^3Iocki7igly.'\ Yes ! 

[^Referring to the letter,^ Desiring to see me 
"for a few moments, upon a matter of business." 
That is all that can be made of it. 

. Olive. 
A matter of business ! 

John. 
This letter is not quite ingenuous, j^ou infer. 

Olive. 
You've caught the tone of the lawyers exactly. 

John. 
\^Hotly^ "A matter of business" is a lie, you 
mean ? 

Olive. 
Her arrival to-night is a remarkable coincidence. 

John. 
A perfectly natural one. 

Olive. 
Why are you so eager, then, to avoid granting 
her the interview she asks for ? 

John. 

Eager ! 

Olive. 

You send word to-her that it's impossible. 



136 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

John. 
Don't you make it impossible ? 

Olive. 

No, I do not ; I do not. I want you to meet 
her to-night ; you've heard me say I wish it. 

John. 
You mean that? 

Olive. 
If ever I meant anything in my life. 

John. 
[Refe7'ring to the letter.] " I shall plant myself 
at some quiet spot near your cottage " 

Olive. 
Ah, no ! never mind the quiet spot near the 
cottage. Why can't you have your business inter- 
view here ? 

John. 
Here ? 

Olive. 
[In a low voice, her head droopi7ig,'\ Where 
we are now, while I — [gla?icinff toward the 
library'] — while I take mj^ place in there. 

[ There is a pause ; Johi^ stands looking at 
her a moment silently. 

John. 

And this is how you propose to carry out your 
undertaking to make amends to Mrs. Fraser? 

[He turns away from her. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 137 

Olive. 
Everything is altered since — since 

John. 
Since we were reconciled ! reconciled ! 

Olive. 
Since I promised to aid Mrs. Fraser. The 
arrival of these people — that letter — has undone 
everything. [T/irowi7ig herself upon the settee 
despairingly^ Oh, they knew well enough where 
their bird would fly to ! \Burying her face in the 
pilloics.] Oh, John, you'll kill me ! 

John. 
Ha, and so you would like to try Mrs. Fraser 
twice in one day ! And there would be no mis- 
take this time, no doubt whatever ! Innocent or 
Guilty — guilty for choice ! 

Olive. 
No, no, innocent. But I want to be satisfied. 
Only satisfy me ! 

John. 
Satisfy you ! My Heavens ! 

Olive. 
Satisfy me ! satisfy me I 

John. 

And what a model judge of this lady you would 
make — of any woman you are jealous of ! How 
scrupulously fair ! how impartial ? how 



138 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Olive. 
I would be just, John ; I would be ! 

John. 

[Savagely taking a cigarette from the box on the 
table and sticking it between his teeth,] Women 
of your temperament detect a leer in the smile of 
a wax doll. 

Olive. 

I give you my word that I will make every 
allowance for you both, if you will let me hear 
you together. You are old friends — '^ chums" 
was her expression for it in the witness-box to- 
day — and you are Jack and Theo to each other, 
naturally ; I am prepared for all that kind of thing. 
She can kiss you good-bye when she parts from 
you — [beating her broio] — I can comprehend even 
that. Only — only let me be satisfied by lier 
general tone and bearing, by that unmistakable 
ring in the voice, that she has never been the 
arrant little profligate I once thought her. 

[John is noio sitting staring at the carpet 
and cheioing the end of his cigarette, 

John. 
Supposing I — consented, and you were — satis- 
fied ? 

Olive. 
[Rising and speaking earnestly and rapidly^ 
We are in June ; I would have her to stay with 
me. My friends, her own friends, should see that 
we were close companions. She should go every- 
where with me ; my arm should always be through 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 139 

hers. I would get a crowd together ; she should 
receive my guests with me. Oh, by Goodwood 
week her reputation should be as sound as any 
woman's in England ! Come ! think of the dread- 
ful days and nights she's given me, whether she's 
good or bad ! Come ! wouldn't that be generous ? 

John. 
[In a low voice.] Look here ! you would swear 
to me you'd never use against her anything that 
might arise during our meeting — ^I mean anything 
that your cursed jealousy could twist into harm ! 

Olive. 
Solemnly. If she proclaimed herself openly in 
this room to be your — [loit/i a starrq^ of the foot he 
rises] — she should go scot-free, for me. If she 
behaved as an innocent woman, she might ^valk 
over me in the future, trample on me ; I'd be a 
slave to her. Only satisfy me ! 

[He goes to the writing-table^ and rajjidly 
scribbles a note. She watches him with 
eager eyes. When he has finished 
xoriting^ he takes an envelope^ rises, 
€07nes to Olive, and holds the note up 
before her. 

John. 
"Come to the cottage. — J. A." 

[She incliiies her head. He touches the bell- 
press. Then he encloses the note in the 
envelope, which he fastens and hands 
to Olive. 



140 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOXJBT 

Olive. 

Why ? 

John. 

Take it. \^She takes it wo7ideringly,'\ I have 
met your demands so far. Now, if you wish to do 
a womanly thing, you'll throw that on the fire. 
[QjjAiF^ enters ; OiAyE. stands staring * before her. 
Speaking hi measured tones ^ keejnng his eyes on 
Olive.] Quaife, the note which Mrs. Allinghani 
will give you is for the messenger. 

Quaife. 
Yes, sir. 

John. 
If a lady arrives, ask her to sit down in the card- 
room ; let me know when she comes. I am alone, 
should the lady make any inquiries. 

Quaife. 
Very good, sir. 

John. 

Olive, Quaife is waiting for the note. \^There is 
a pause ; then Olive turns suddenly and hands 
Quaife the note. He goes out. There is another 
pause.] And after this — after this ! — you and I ! 
Upon what terras do you imagine you and I will 
be after this ? 

Olive. 
Oh, if she comes out of it well, I will be so 
good to her 

John. 
[ Contemptuously. ] Ah ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 141 

Olive. 
[Clutching his arm,^ I will make you forgive 
me for it ; I will make you ! [He 7'eleases himself 
from her almost roughly^ and moves avmy^ turning 
his back %ipon her,'] Of course, you will not men- 
tion to Mrs. Fraser that you and I are in any 
way — in any way ? 

* John. 
Reconciled ! [Sitting on the settee, laughing 

wildly i\ Ha, ha, ha ! [Turning to her.] 

Why not ? 

Olive. 
Naturally, she w^ouldn't open her lips to you at 
all if you did. 

John. 
[ Wavi?ig her away.] Faugh ! 

Olive. 

[Her hand to her brow,] You are — very — 
polite. [She wcdks sloioly and painfully towards 
the steps, pausing in her loalk, and referring to 
her tcatch,] John, when the talk between you 
and Mrs. Fraser lias — gone far enough, I will 
strike ten on the bell of the little clock in here. 
You understand? 

John. 
When j^ou are satisfied ! 

Olive. 

[Beginning to ascend the stejys with the aid of 
the balustrade.] When I am satisfied. 



142 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

JOHX. 

Olive ! \^She stopsJ] It's not too late now 

for us to think better of playing tins infernally 
mean trick upon her. 

Olive. 
[^Steadily ^ in a loio, hard voice.] Why, nothing 
can arise, during this interview, injurious, in the 
mind of any fair person, to Mrs. Eraser's reputa- 
tion ? 

John. 
[Starti7ig to his feet,] Nothing ! nothing ! 

Olive. 
Then I am clearly serving Mrs. Fraser's interests 
by what I am doing. 

l^She disappears into the library. After a. 
brief pause^ John hastily goes to the 
dining-room door^ and opens it slightly, 

John. 
Mrs. Cloys ! Mrs. Cloys ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
l^Froni the dining -roo^n.] Yes. 

John. 
Let me speak to you? [Mrs. Cloys enters ; he 
closes the door sharply^ speaking hurriedly and 
excitedly.] I — I have altered my mind about 
meeting Mrs. Fraser 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Altered your mind ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 143 

John. 
I have sent a note to her by her messenger asking 
her to see me here. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Ml'. Allingham, I protest against this as quite 
unnecessary. 

. John. 

Pardon me. [ProdiiciJig Theophila's letter^ 
and speahing disjointedly ^ uneasily,^ On — on 
consideration, it seems to me that — that — for 
everybody's sake, I have to satisfy my wife that 
Mrs. Fraser's presence is due solely to the most 
innocent causes. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Mrs. Allingham has, I take it, arrived at certain 
conchisions as to the motive of my visit ? 

John. 
She has. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
And now, Theophila following upon our 

heels ? 

John. 
It is a most unfortunate accident 

Mrs. Cloys. 

\Eyeing him penetratingly ?[ Mr. Allingham, 
you have no doubt whatever of the absolute 
genuineness of my niece's excuse for calling upon 
you? 



144 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

John. 
Oh, Mrs. Cloys—! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\^Sittmg,^ Yes, I admit that I came here to- 
night to ask you to pledge your word to us that 
Theo should run no further risk from her — her 
acquaintanceship with you ; to entreat you, if she 
should be so base, so abandoned 

John. 
You mean you thought it possible, probable, 
that this lady had run away from her husband and 
friends with the deliberate intention of joining 
me — me ! [Mrs. Cloys covers her eyes with her 
handkerchief.^ Great Heaven, I suppose there is 
no living soul who will believe in an honest friend- 
ship between a young man and a young woman ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
There are certain rules for the conduct of friend- 
ship, Mr. Allingham 

John. 
[Excitedly. ~\ Rules ! The world is getting 
choked with rules for the conduct of everything 
and everybody ! What's tlie matter with the 
world that a woman has to lose her character and 
paint her face before slie is entitled to tell a man 
her troubles, and hear his in return, across a dying 
fire, by lamplight, when the streets are still and a 



TSE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. U^ 

few words of sympathy and encouragement stir 

one like a sudden peal of bells ? 

l^He stands hy thejire^boioing his head upon 

the mantelpiece, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\Loohing at hhn^ and speaking in a low voice.] 
Ah ! a dying fii'e, the lamplight, the still 
streets ! The world is what it is, Mr. Ailing- 
ham. 

John. 
Yes, and it is a d able world ! 

QuAiFE enters. 

QUAIFE. 

The lady has arrived, sir. 

[Mrs. Cloys rises. 

John. 
[To QuAiFE.] When I ring, show her in liere.- 

[QuAiFE withdraws. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Agitatedly.] Mr. AUingham, you w^ill not let 
Theo slip through my fingers ; you won't let her 

escape me ? [Looking at him.] Oh, I will 

trust you so far. 

John. 
You may. I only ask you to allow me to have 
my interview with Mrs. Fraser undisturbed. 



146 THE BENEFIT OF THE LOtlBT. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
All, if you knew how I hate the idea of this 
meeting between you two! \^Turning sharply,^ 
I've a feeling that something evil is going to 
result from it ! 

John. 

I can only repeat, you're wrong in what you 
think of me — [turning away] — wrong, every one 
of you. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

[ Coming to him^ her mariner gradually chang- 
ing to harshnesSy almost to vtole?ice.] Well, under- 
stand me, Mr. Allingham ! I'm inclined to — to 
half -believe in you ; you've an honest face and 
air—not that those things count for much ; but 
understand me : if you bring, in any shape or 
form, further harm to her ^! 

John. 
[Indigna7itly.] What further harm can I bring 
to her ? You find me here with my wife ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Sir, you had a wife round the corner when j^ou 
were engaged in destroying my niece's reputation 
in Lennox Gardens ! [Recovering her composure.] 
But enough of that. [C a Imly, amiably.] We do 
understand one another, do we not ? 

John. 
[Shortly,] Oh, perfectly. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 147 

Mrs. Cloys. 
That's right. \^Arra7iging her bonnet strings^ 
which have become slightly disordered,'] Excuse 
me for breaking out in this fashion. \^She goes to 
the door J he following her. At the door she turns 
to hira with grave dignity,'] I'm afraid I've 
impressed you as being rather a tigress. 

\She goes out. He closes the door after her 
and stands staring at the ground for a 
moment ; then he gently turns the key 
in the lock and carefully dratas the 
portiere across the door. He is about 
to put his finger upon the bell-press 
when he pauses, 

John. 

[Z/i a low voice,] Olive. Olive. I have not 
yet rung the bell. Do you stop me ? \^A pause.] 
Won't you stop me? 

\^He waits; there is no ansicer ; loith an 
angry gesture he rings the bell. After 
' a brief pause Quaife enters ; Theo- 
vniLKfoUoics. She is dressed as in the 
previous Act, but is now thickly veiled, 
QuAiFje gives a puzzled look round the 
room and withdraios, 

Theophila. 
Advancing and spjeaMng in a weak, plaintive 

voice,] Oh, Jack ! \They shake hands, but 

in a constrained, rather formal tcay,] Of course, 
we could have had our talk very well in the lane ; 
but it's kind and considerate of you to ask me in. 



148 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 
Oh, not in the least. [ Confusedly ^^ I — er — I— 
Do sit down. 

\She looks at him^ expecting him to find lier 
a chair. In the end, after a little un- 
certainty.^ she seats herself on the right 
of the table. In the 7nea7itime he ascer- 
tains that the door by ichich Theophila 
has entered is closed. 

Theophila. 
\Lifting her veil.] I'm afi-aid you're a little 
angry with me for hunting you up. 

John. 
Angr}^ ? Why should I be angrj^ ? 

Theophila. 

Well, I suppose it is anotlier — what d'ye call 
it ? — injudicious act on my part. But it seemed to 
me, if I thought about it at all, that w^e came so 
badly out of it to-day, that nothing matters much 
now. At any rate, 7?vy character's gone. 

John. 
[Advancing a step or two but avoiding her eye.] 

No, no 

Theophila. 
Oh, isn't it? And j^ours has gone too. Jack ; 
only a man gets on comfortably without one. 
[Facing him, her elbows on the table.] Well, 
what do you think of my news? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 149 

John. 
[ZooM?iff at her, startled.] By Jove, bow dread- 
fully white you are ! 

Theophila. 
[ With a nod a7id a smile.] The looks have gone 
with the character — [putting her hands over her 
face] — both departed finally. 

John. 
[Co77iing a little nearer to her.] Er — when 
you've had a little rest you will see everything in 
a brighter light 

Theophila. 

I should have kept my appearance a good many 
years, being fair and small. S^Remomng her 
hands — looking up at him.] You used to tell me 
I sliould last pretty till I'm forty-five. Do you 
remember ? [Jlisjato drops a little, and he stares 
at her without reply mg.] Do you remember? 

John. 
[Movi7ig aioay.] Oh — er — yes 



Theophila. 
Is there anything wrong with you, Jack? 

John. 
Wrong — with me ? No. 

[^She shifts to the other side of the table, to 
be nearer to hi77i. He eyes her askance. 



150 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Theophila. 
Why don't you tell me what you think of my 
news ? 

John. 
Your news ? 

Theophila. 

[Ifn2?atie7Uli/,] You've read my letter, Jack. 
I'm a — what am I? — -a single woman again; a 
sort of widow. 

John. 

You are acting too hastily ; you're simply 
carried away by a rush of indignation. Perhaps 
matters can be arranged, patched up. You 
mustn't be allowed to 

Theophila. 
Arranged ! patched ^p ! You don't realise 
what you're proposing ! You wouldn't make 
sucli a suggestion if you had been a fly on the 
wall this afternoon while Mr. Fraser and I were — 
having a little talk. [Strug gling to keep back her 
tears.'\ Alec — my husband — he was very much in 
love with me at one time. I never doubted that 
he would stand by me through thick and thin. 
He has done so pretty well, up till to-day, up till 

the trial, and then, suddenly, he — he 

[She produces her handkerchiefs rises, the?i 
moves aumy abrupjthj, and stands with 
her back to John, crying, 

John. 
[Turning to the fire.^ Mr. Fraser was taken 
aback, flabbergasted, I expect, by the tone adopted 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 151 

by the judge to-day ; there's that poor excuse for 
him. But a little reflection will soon 



Theophila. 
\Drying her eyes,^ Oh, don't prose, Jack ! 
\2\irning.^ On the whole, I think it's better that 
lie and I have at last managed to find out where 
we are. 

John. 
\^Tar7iing to her.^ Where you are ? 

Theophila. 
You know, there's always a moment in the lives 
of a man and woman who are tied to each other 
when the man has a chance of making the woman 
really, really, his own property. It's only a 
moment ; if he let's the chance slip, it's gone, it 
never comes back. I fancy my husband had his 
chance to-day. If he had just put his hand on 
my shoulder this afternoon and said, "You fool, 
you don't deserve it, for your stupidity, but I'll 

try to save you " ; if he had said something, 

anything, of that kind to me, I think I could have 

gone down on my knees to him and [ Coming 

to John excitedly.^ But he stared at the carpet, 
and held on to his head, and moaned out that he 
must have time, time ! Time ! Oh, he was my 
one bit of rock ! [Throwing herself into a chair on 
the right,'] If he'd only mercifully stuck to me 
for a few months — three months — two — for a 
month " 






152 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 
[ Going to her slowly and deliberately and stand- 
ing by her, 'I Mrs. Fraser. [^She looks up at him 
surprised,^ Of course, whatever future is in store 
for you, nothing — no luck, no happy times — can 
ever pay you back for the distress of mind you've 
gone through. 

Theophila. 
Notliing, Jack — Mr. Allingham. [Her hand to 
her broto.] Oh, nobody knows ! Oh, Jack, some 
nights— some nights~IVe said my prayers. 

John. 
I've found myself doing that too — in hansoms, 
or walking along the street. 

Theophila. 
Praying for 7ne f 

John. 

[Nervously ^^ Y-yes. 

Theophila. 
Oh, don't make me cry again i 01 1, my head ! 
oh, don't let me cry any more ! 

John. 
Hush, hush, hush ! What I want to say is this. 
You knew young Goodhew ? 

Theophila. 

Charley Goodhew— the boy that clieated at 
baccarat ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 153 

John. 
He didn't ; he was innocent. 

Theophila. 
I'm sure he was, poor fellow. 

John. 

Well, he told me, one day in Brussels, that he 
managed to take all the sting out of his punish- 
ment by continually reminding himself that it was 
undeserved, that there wasn't a shadow of justi- 
fication for it. I suppose it would be the same 
with a woman who — who gets into a scrape ; an 
innocent woman ? 

Theophila. 
It's good, under such circumstances, if you can 
feel a bit of a martyr, you mean ? 

John. 
That's it. So, in the future, you must never 
tire of reminding yourself of the utter harmless- 
ness of tliose hours we used to spend together in 
Lennox Gardens. 

Theophila. 
They were harmless enough, God knows, 

John. 
[JEJarnestl}/, eagerly.] God knows. 

Theophila. 
And they were awfully jolly, too. 



154 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 
[Blankly^ his voice droppi?ig,] Jolly ? 

Theophila. 
You know — cosy, comforting. 

JOHK. 

Yes, yes— comforting. It was the one thing 
that kept me together during those shocking Pont 
Street days of mine. 

Theophila. 
Our friendship ? 

John. 
Our friendship. When I was in the deepest 
misery, the thought would come to me : " Well, I 
sliall see my little friend to day or to-morrow." 
And then Pd go through our meeting as I sup- 
posed it would be — as it always was 

Theophila. 
" 'Ullo, Jack ! good morning — or good evening. 
Oil, my dear boy, you're in trouble again, I'm 
afraid ! " 

John. 
^^ Dreadfully. I shall go mad, I believe — or 
drink." 

Theophila. 
" Mad— drink ; not you. Sit down and tell me 
all about it." 



And so on, 



John, 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 155 

Theophila. 
And so on. I bad my miseries too. 

John. 

Yes, you had your miseries too. 

Theophila. 
And then you invariably came out with that one 
piece of oracular advice of yoiirs. 

John. 

Ah, yes. '' Don't fret ; it'll be all the same a 
hundred years hence." 

Theophila. 
Which you couldn't act upon yourself. How 
vexed it used to make me — and the ponderous way 
you said it ! 

John. 
Well, it was a good, helpful friendship to rae. 

Theophila. 
And to rae. 

John. 
[^Standing a little behind her ; speaking calmly^ 
but vmtching her eagerly.'] Because, all the while, 
there w^as never one single thought of anything 
but friendship on either side. 

Theophila. 
Why, of course not, Jack. 



156 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 

You'd liave detected it in me, if there had 
been ? 

Theophila. 
Trust a woman for that. 

John. 
And if you had for a moment fancied that I was 
losing sight of mere friendship ? 

Theophila. 
You! 

John. 
What would you have done ? 

Theophila. 

Oh, one day, the usual headache ; not at home 
the next — the proper thing. But, Jack, dear, I 
never felt the slightest fear of you — and that's 
what makes an end like this so cruel, so intolerably 
cruel. 

John. 

Never felt the slightest fear of me ? 

Theophila. 
No, never ; oh, of course, a woman can tell. 
Somehow, I knew — I knew you couldnH be a 
blackguard. 

John. 
[About to seize her hancl^ but restraining him- 
self^ God bless you ! God bless you ! \He 
walks away and pokes the fire vigorously^ hitting 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 15 '7 

the coal triumphantly.^ Ah, ha, ha ! [^Ttirniiig to 
Theophila.] I beg your pardon ; you're in the 
most uncomfortable chair in the room. 

\^She rises and crosses the room. 

John. 

[Arranging the pilloios on the settee,^ You 
must be so weary, too. I'm confoundedly stupid 
and forgetful to-night. 

Tl^EOPHILA. 

[Sitting 07i the settee."] Fancy ! a fire in June ! 

John. 

[ Walking about elatedly, dividi?ig his glayices 
betioeeii Theophila and the library,] I love to 
see a fire. 

Theophila. 
[Suddenly,] Of course. [Dropping her voice.] 
I remember. [He stoj^s, staring at her.] Do you 
recollect? [Steadily gaziiig into the fire.] That 
niglit when we were sitting over the fire in that 
little room in Lennox Gardens 

John. 
[Hastily.] Oh, yes, yes 

Theophila. 

"I shall always burn a fire, Theo," you said, 

" to bring back these nights, these soothing, 

precious talks in the quiet hours. Wherever I 

may be, I shall only have to light my fire to hear 



158 THE BENEFIT OF THE BOVBT. 

you and to see you — to see you sitting facing 
mo " 

John. 

Ah, tliat evening — yes, I was terribly — terribly 
down tliat evening. [ Wiping his broicl By-tbe- 
bye, we — we mustn't neglect the — the — the matter 
of business — the little matter of business 

Theophila. 
[Iioi(si7ig herself,'] Matter of ? 

John. 
The matter of business you mention in your 

letter 

Theophila. 
[Hisinff,] Oh, yes. [^Sitting on the left of the 
centre table,] Jack, I — 1 do hope you won't hate 
me for asking you. You see, if I went to anyone 
else, I should run a chance of having all my ar- 
rangements upset. I — I want to borrow a little 

money 

John. 

Ah, yes, certainly — anything — I shall be most 
happy 

Theophila. 
This is exactly how I am placed. Mr. Fraser 
wanted to hurry me off abroad — ah ! that's done 
with. Instead of that, you see, I've taken my 
travels and my future into my own hands. I've 
telegraphed to Emily Graveney, who was at 
Madame MacDonnell's with us girls in the Rue 
D'Audiffret-Pasquier. Emily is teaching in Paris 



TBE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 159 

now — I hardly know how she scrapes along ; 
she'll be mad with delight to have my companion- 
ship. But till the lawyers settle my position pre- 
cisely as regards Mr. Fraser, I'm practically broke, 
penniless. It's a little ready-money I want. 

JoH^r. 

[ Who has seated himself at the right of the 
tahle^ tohile Theophila has been talking.'] You 
have only to tell me how much 

Theophila. 
Well, I think I could tide over with fifty 
pounds. I'm afraid yoir haven't got it in the 
house, though. I don't want a cheque. 

John. 
[Taking out his keys and going to a table.] I 

believe I ca7i just make it up [ITe opens a 

drawer in the writing-table^ finds some bank'7ioteSy 
counts them^ then empties his sovereign-purse and 
screws the gold zip in the notes.] Within a 

pound 

Theophila. 
That's of no consequence. [^Rising.] I'm awfully 

obliged to you ; I knew you would — I — I 

[^He returns to her and finds her clutching 
the table unsteadily. 

John. 

[^Placing the money on the table.] What's the 
matter ? 



100 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Theophila. 
Nothing. [Sinking back into the chair, with 
closed eyes,] I shall be all right in a minute. 

[He brings her a glass of loater and places 
it to her lips. She sips the water for a 
little while, then gives a sigh, 

John. 
Better? 

Theophila. 
I think so. 

John. 
When did you last eat? [She shakes her head 
feebly. He puts the glass of water aside and 
fetches the biscuits.] Get two or three of these 
down. Conie — try ! 

Theophila. 
[Taking a biscuit.'] Thank you. 

[He places the bisc%iits on the table by her 
side and goes back to the other table. 

John. 

A glass of this champagne would pull you 
together. 

Theophila. 

[Nibbling the biscuit, her eyes still closed.] 
Would it ? [He brings the decanter of champagne 
and a small tumbler. She, speaking faintly, and 
opening her eyes.] Oh, do let me off this, Jack. 

John. 
[Poicring out some champagne.] No, no ; stick 
to It — do. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 161 

Theophila. 
[ Watching him,'\ That looks nice. [She puts 
the remains of her biscuit o?i the table and stretches 
out her hand for the loine. He gives it to her ; she 
drinks,] Oh ! oh ! oh — h — h — li ! [ There is a 
joause / then she shakes herself, looks up at him, 
and breaks into a low, childlike little laugh.] Ha ! 
lia, ha, ha ! I'd nearly gone, hadn't I ? [Empty- 
ing her glass,] Oh !' oh ! . . . Fetch yourself a 
glass, and we'll drink luck to each other. Then 
I really must be off. The porter said the trains 
run every — every what was it? [He brings a 
glass which she fills, speaking a7iimatedly .] A 
tumbler ! oh, fie ! [Filling her own glass.] Oh, 
mine's a tumbler too ! [Nodding to him.] Our- 
selves ! [Touching his glass with hers.] Our 
two poor unfortunate selves? [T'hey drink.] 
Ha ! I don't care ! do you ? 

John. 
Care ? 

Theophila. 
A hang. For anything ; for what the judge 
said ; for what people think. Puh. Here's to our 
friend, the judge ! [Drinking, nearly empty- 
in g her glass.] I hope his wife's a cat who leads 
him a [Jumping up suddenly, her eyes dilat- 
ing, holding her glass high in the air.] Happiness 
and prosperity to Mr. Fraser ! [Loudly.] Mr. 
Fraser ! 

John. 

S-s-sh ! oh, hush ! 



162 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Theophila. 
Fraser of Locheen ! \^She goes to the fireplace 
and flings the contents of her glass mto the grate.] 
Ha ! well, that's throwing good stuff after poor, 
isn't it? [She places her glass on the table ; the 
cigarette box is open; she takes a cigarette,] The 
old sort ? 

John. 
[ Quickly,] No, no — ■ — 

Theophila. 
[Striking a match,] Only a whiff. [Lighti7ig 
her cigarette,] Sure I'm not in the way. Jack, if 
I rest here a minute or two longer ? 

John. 
[ With a glance at the library,] C — certainly 
not. 

Theophila. 

[Throwing herself upon the settee in a careless 
attitude^ smoking,] Oh, thank God for this rest ! 
[Looking round,] So this is the little place you 
used to tell me about 

John. 
[Standijig^ vmtching her apprehensively,] 

Urn 

Theophila. 

Phew ! Your fire's all rioht to look at ! 



[She removes her cape from her shoulders and flings 
it away from her ; he picks it up, and places it 
over the back of a chair,] Never mind that rag. 
Are you likely to be in Paris ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 163 

John. 
I — I'm not fond of Paris. 

Theophila. 
[Jumping up, and speaking volubly^ excitedly, 
boisterously.'] Suppose that wire don't find Emily, 
and she doesn't meet me at the Nord to-morrow 
night. Ugh ! cheerful ! She may be dead. No, 
no ; not Emily. Poor old Emily ! Be sure you 
look me up if you shoidd pass through. Rue 
Poissonniere, 18. You're bound to be rambling 
soon. How lucky a man is ! Does just as 
he chooses. Good chap, So-and-so — awfully 
rackety — but the world would be a dooced deal 
livelier if there were more like him ! That's what 
they all say of a man ! . . . phew ! . . . [As she 
rattles on^ she takes off her bonnet and clears her 
hair from her broio,] But a woman ! Well, 
look at 7ne, Not that anybody vnll look at mc, 
in Paris or elsewhere. I used to know several 
smart people in Paris ! Now ! Oh, my stars, 
won't they stalk distant objects when they see me 
coming along ! [Angrily.'] Ah, a gay time I 
shall have of it, shut up with Emily Graveney, 
with her red nose, and her poor, narrow chest, 
and her perpetual sniffle ! [ She flings aioay her 
cigarette. Her hair is disordered^ her breath comes 
quickly, there is a toild look in her eyes. Her 
bonnet falls to the floor. He paces the room dis- 
tractedly.] By Jove, I won't have a dull time, 
though I I shall only hang out with Emily long- 
enough just to turn round. Then I'll take a little 
appartement of my own. Uncle Fletcher will 
make me an allowance ; I won't touch a penny — 



164 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

of — pub — his money. I'll let the world see how 
happy I am without tlie character I've been robbed 
of ! Yes, robbed of ! [^Laughing noisily,] Ha, 
ha, ha ! [Snapping her fingers.] Pish ! I shall 
burst out laughing in the face of the whole world, 
Jack — put my tongue out at the world, your wife, 
my husband ! After the solemn farce we've all 
gone through. [JBetioeen her teeth,] Y — y — j^es, 
they shall have a pretty picture in their minds of 
me, t'other side of the Channel, with my finger to 
my nose like a cheeky urchin ! Oh, my Heavens, 



John. 
Mrs. Fraser ! Mrs. Fraser- 



Theophila. 
Oh, the devilish injustice of it ! To think that 
Ave're still married, Jack — -you and I ! Hah ! the 
mockery ! To think that we wander about the 
world still with our owner's marks branded upon 
us! Ha, ha! I believe I've an "F" branded 
upon my shoulder — burnt in ! [Running to him,] 
Oh, I won't bear it ! I can't bear it ! 

John. 

Hush, hush ! 

Theophila. * 
I shall go mad if I can't pay out that wife of 
yours ! [Shrilly.] She's ruined me ! I will be 
even with her ! 

John. 
Hush— ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 165 

Theophila. 
And with him ! — that fish ! — that cold, flapping 

fish ! \^Clinging to hhn suddenly?^ Jack ! 

I wouldn't bore you ! I wouldn't bore you, 

Jack ! 

John. 
Bore me ! 

Theophila. 

Ah-h-h-h ! take me away ! Let's you and I go 
together ! 

John. 
\PuUing his hand over her mouth,'] Ah, for 

God's sake ! [^The clock in the library is 

heard to strike,] It's too late ! too late ! 

Theophila. 
[Drawi?iy back, looking into his face. Too 

late ? \_There is a sharp knocking at the 

dining-room door,] What's that ? \2'he knocking 
is repeated.] Who is it ? 

John. 
Mrs. Cloys is here. 

Theophila. 
[^Her hand to her brow.] Mrs. Cloys — aunt ! 

John. 
Mrs. Cloys, Sir Fletcher, and your brother were 
with me when your note arrived. They want to 
see you. 

Theophila. 
See me — see me 



166 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

John. 
[Grippiuff her wrist,] Pull yourself together, 
Mrs. Fraser 

[77ie knockiiig is again heard, John goes 
to the door, 

Theophila. 
l^In a tohisper,] Jack ! [He pauses ; she seems 
dazed,] They — they haven't heard — a word of — 
oh, of what I've said to j^ou ? 

John. 

Heard ! N-no. Are you ready? 

[He pulls aside the porti^re^ unlocks the 
door, and opens it. Mrs. Cloys 
enters; Sir Fletcher arid Claude 
appear in the doorioay, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
You have tried ray patience long enough, Mr. 
Allingham.. [She goes to Theophila ; John 
loalks aioay, and stands with his back to those in 
the room,] Come ! you have had ample time for 
yonv business ill terviev), [^S^arm^ a^ Theophila.] 
What's wrong with you ? 

Theophila. 
[Si7iking into a chair.] N-nothing. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Where's your cape — and your bonnet ? 

[Theophila looks round vacantly. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 167 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Cape ? cape ? Here's a cape. 

\^IIe hands the cape to Mrs. Cloys ; she 
snatches it from him, and puts it round 
Theophila's shoulders, Claude picks 
up the bonnet and brings it to Mrs. 
Cloys, the7i goes to the upper door, and 
staiids there waiting, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\Raising Theophila.] You are not well ; 

you are ill. Fletcher ! [Sir Fletcher goes 

up to the steps leading to the library,'] Where 
are you going ? 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

My hat He pushes the portiere aside, then 

draios back,] Mrs. Allingham ! [^Hesitat- 

ingly,] Er — I believe I have left my hat here, 

Mrs. Allingham. May I ? 

[He enters the library, 

Theophila. 
Mrs. Allingham ! Mrs. — Allingham — — ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Yes, yes. 

[Sir Fletcher comes out of the library, 

carrying his hat. 



168 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Theophila. 

[7b Mrs. Cloys.] Mrs. Allingham ! bis . . . 
wife ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Mr. and Mrs. Allingham have arranged their 
diflFerences. [^Looking from Theophila to John.] 
Why, don't you know ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Coming dotcn the steps^l Haven't you seen 
Mrs. Allingham ? 

Theophila. 
Seen her ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
This evening — here ? 

Theophila. 
Here ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Your interview with Mr. Allingham has taken 
place in this room ? 

Theophila. 
In this room ? Yes 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Come 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Wait, Harriet, please ! Allingham — Mr. Alling- 
ham — pardon me for putting such a question: 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 169 

surely you have not allowed — allowed — been a 
party to ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Allowed — what ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[JLooking toicard the library.] Harriet, you can 
hear most distinctly, in the library 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Hear ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Overhear — certainly, overhear 

Mrs. Cloys. 
No, no ! [ Going to John.] Preposterous ! 
[After a pause,'] Mr. Allingham, why should Mrs. 
Allingham — be there! [John is sileiit,'] What 

has passed between you and ? Your wife has 

not been — listening ? 

John. 
[Desperately.] Mrs. Fraser — has said — nothing 
to me that a — a just woman can bring up against 

her 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Listening! 

John. 
[Almost inaiicUhly.] Yes. [Passionately,] But 



ITO THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

you don't know ! [ Calling i7i a loud voice,] 

Olive! Olive ! 

[Olive comes out of the library^ and stands 
at the top of the steps, Theophila re- 
gards her for a moment blankly, then 
goes to the balustrade and stares up at 
her. After a brief pause Theophila 
joi7is Mrs. Cloys, but seeing John, she 
co77ies tmsteadily toioards him and looks 
him i?) the face. Then, as she tu7*ns 
away to Mrs. Cloys, she utters a groan, 
and tumbles to the floor at John's /(5€^. 



END of act the SECOND. 



THE THIRD ACT. 

The Scene is the same as in the previous Act, but a 
feio articles of furniture are differently dis- 
2yosed about the room. There is no fire ; and 
floioers decorate the fireplace. The loindows 
are open a^d the light is that of a fine after- 
noon in summer, Eraser is seated upon the 
settee. John Allingham appears in the gar- 
den^ looks into the room, glares fiercely at 
Eraser, coughs significantly, andxoalks aioay. 
When John has gone, Eraser, glancing at 
the window, rises, and, loith an angry excla- 
mation, crosses the room. Mrs. Cloys and 
JusTiNA enter ; Mrs. Cloys is dressed as in 
the previous Acts, but without her bonyiet and 
mantle ; Justina is in a bright niorning- 
dress. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ Jb Eraser.] She insists upon rising ; she 
will see you in a few minutes. 

Eraser. 
Thank you. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
She is excessively weak and shattered ; you 
must remember that. 

171 



1V2 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Fraser. 
Yes, yes. I can never adequately express my 
gratitude 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Sitting upon the settee,] Tscb ! 

Justin A. 
Aunt has been up with her the whole night. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Not alone. Mrs. Allingham ;■ 

Fraser. 
Mrs. Allingham ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Mrs. Allingham begged to be allowed to keep 
me company. There was a little scene between 
us — but the woman is, to some extent, human, I 
find. 

Fraser. 
Oh, I've no doubt that Mrs. Allingham is 
ashamed of herself 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I hope we are all ashamed of ourselves. In the 
end I was far from sorry to have her companion- 
ship. Your poor wife didn't come out of her 
swoon till nearly one o'clock this morning. Then 
Dr. Erskine went home and Mrs. Allingham and I 
took our places by the bedside — [to Justina] — 
till you arrived at breakfast-time, Justina. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 173 

JUSTINA. 

[7b Fraser.] And I brought old Sarah, who 
used to maid us girls when Theo was at home ; 
she's dressing her now. 

Fraser. 
Mrs. Cloys, pray help me with your advice. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Bridling.'] Oh— h— h ! 

Fraser. 
No, no — about Mr. Allingham. Ha ! of course 
if we were Frenchmen we should fight a duel 

Justin A. 
Certainly, ray dear Alec, and he would kill you. 

Fraser. 
Perhaps ; that doesn't follow. 

JUSTINA. 

It doesn't follow, because it can't follow. But 
he would kill you and everybody would say of 
you, " Serve him right ; another unsatisfactory 
husband disposed of ! " And you would be buried, 
and my sister would be free and would go to 
Trouville in August in her weeds, and we should 
all have a splendid time generally. 

Fraser. 
[Dryly, 1 If we were French. 



1V4 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

JUSTIXA. 

Yes. [Goi7ig to the loindow.] Why aren't we 
French ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Justina ! 

Fraser. 

[Advanci7ig to Mrs Cloys, hesitatinffly, wicoin- 
fortably — loicering his voice,] I can't deny that 
I have behaved in a very poor fashion to The- 
ophila 

Justina. 
[Looking into the garden,'] Deny it ! no ! 

Fraser. 

[ Turning to Justina.] Please ! [ To Mrs. 

Cloys.] But you, Mrs. Cloys, have just admitted 
to me that, up till last night, your feelings to- 
wards her were at least as unjust as my own. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Ah, I hope your contrition, now that the facts 
are known to us, is as sincere and as deep as mine, 
Mr. Fraser. 

Justina. 
Oh, how miserable he looks ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Who? 

Justina. 

Jack Allinghani. 

[She goes out and disappears. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT H^ 

Fraser. 
[ Walking about a7igrily.] There he is again ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
He has every right to be here. 

Fraser. 
It's in curious taste. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I don't see that. He feels called upon to re- 
main here to protect his wife. He might say, 
with equal reason 

Fraser. 
Hardly. He can take his wife away, and pro- 
tect her elsewhere. But I am helpless. You tell 
me it is a question whether Theophila ought to be 
moved to-day or not 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Referring to her watch.] Dr. Erskine will 
decide very shortly. 

Fraser. 
So, for how long, in Heaven's name, am I to 
endure Mr. AUingham ? The fellow puts himself 
in my way. If I walk in the garden, he appears 
indoors at a window, and coughs in a menacing 
fashion. When I enter the house the proceedings 
are but slightly varied — I am inside ; Allingham 
and his cough outside. 



176 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I find him a simple-minded, boyish young man. 

Fraser. 
[Zooki7ig through the balustrade into the library.^ 
Do you ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 

After all, the conspiracy he assisted at — for 
which I can never forgive him — was carried out, 
on his part, in perfect good faith to Theophila. 

Fraser. 
His share in it is singularly discreditable. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[^Rising.'] You and I must remember that it is 
tlirongli this discreditable act that we are able to 
do justice to your wife. 

JusTiNA re-enters ut the window. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ To JusTiNA.] Is Mr. Allingham there ? 

JUSTINA. 

Yes, aunt. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
\To Fraser.] I assume you are anxious to 
avoid any open quarrel with Mr. Allingham ? 

Fraser. 
I simply wish to get my sick wife away as 
speedily and as peacefully as possible, and then to 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 1'7'7 

forget this gentleman — and his cough. [M;rs. 
Cloys goes out at the windoio and disappears.^ 
Justina, surely you — yoic — resent this new attitude 
of Mrs. AUingham's ? For months and months 
she is your sister's bitter, determined enemy ; then, 
suddenly, she is allowed to sit up all night, nursing 
her ? 

• Justina. 
You wouldn't grudge the woman her little bit 
of practical repentance ? If ever I go in for 
repentance, let nobody try to do me out of it ! 

Fraser. 
[^Impatiently.'] Repentance ! 

Justina. 
[Sitting on the arm of a chair.] Oh, Olive 
Allingham didn't have too gay a time of it last 
night, take my word for it. When Theo came 
to, aunt tells me, her poor, overwrought brain 
wandered for an hour or so ; that wasn't over- 
pleasant for Mrs. A. Theo went through the 
whole business from beginning to end, breaking 
off occasionally to say her prayers — praying that 
the case might end in her favour, and that the 
season's invitations would flow in as usual. Some- 
times she'd stop in the middle of it, and call out 
that she couldn't pray well while that creature 
was in the next room listening. Luckily she fell 
into a heavy sleep at about half-past two, and 
didn't wake till just as I turned up in response to 
aunt's telegram. But what a bad hour or two it 
must have been for Mrs. A. Picture it ! The 



178 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

half-darkened room ; my little sister tossing about 
the bed, raving ; aunt sitting grimh'' en one side, 
with a handkerchief round her head ; and on the 
other side, hidden behind the bed-curtains, hardly 
daring to breathe, that woman, with her white 
face and her eyes almost out of their sockets ! 

Sir Fletcher enters^ carrying some slips of paper 
covered with loriting. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Allingham has had really a most admirable cold 
luncheon laid in the dining-room. [7b Fraser.] 
You haven't seen the dining-room ? 

Fraser. 
[Shortly,'] No. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Really a capital lunch. Evidently it is intended 
that one should wander in and eat a wing of a 
chicken when one feels inclined. 

JUSTINA. 

You have been wandering, uncle, apparently. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
A glass of sherrj^, merely. No — it is strange 
and unreasonable that it should be so, but it is so. 

JUSTINA. 

What is so? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Whj^, one has rather a feeling of constraint in 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 1T9 

sitting clown to Allingham's table — at any rate 
until matters are in a more settled state. [To 
Eraser.] You wouldn't care to — to make the 
plunge ? 

Fraser. 
Plunge ? 

Sir Flj:tcher Portwood. 

To break the ice ? 

Fraser. 
Eat his lunch ! 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Sitting on the settee and arranging his papers,^ 
No, no ; I can quite understand 

JUSTINA. 

[Throwing her head back.] Ha ! 

Fraser. 
[To her, angrily.] I believe you would grin by 
the side of a grave. 

JUSTINA. 

[Shruggi7ig her shoidders.] Cela depend. 

Fraser. 
[Turning away in disgust,] Ah ! 

JUSTINA. 

[Jumping up.] Oh, I've had my bad days 
lately — plenty of 'em ! This morning the atmos- 
pliere's a bit clearer. [Gaily.] Tra, la, la ! 



180 THE BENEFIT OF THE BOtfBT, 

Fraser. 
Tlie woman who can laugh under such circum- 
stances 

JUSTINA. 

\Turyiing upon him,'] Laugh ! My dear Alec, 
if you had learnt to laugh when you acquired 
your other accomplishments, you would have been 
able perhaps to keep my sister out of the Divorce 
Court. [^She goes out. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

[Missing icith his papers.] Fraser [Fraser 

comes to him.,] When I got to my hotel here 
last niglit I jotted down tlie — the — the leading 
points — the leading features 

Fraser. 
Leading features ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Of this awkward affair between you and the 
Allinghams 

Fraser. 
[Impatiently,] There is now no question 
between me and the Allinghams 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Rising,] My dear Locheen ! A lady deliber- 
ately stations herself in that room, with the cogniz- 
ance and approval of her husband, to listen to 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 181 

Frasee. 
I wish to forget all that occurred last night. It 
is done with. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Pardon me ; it cannot be done with ; it ought 
not to be done with, without the most complete 
apology — I will not, for reasons you will presently 
appreciate, hint from which side. [ Going to 
Fraser, buttonholing him.] Do you know what 
has suggested itself to me, Fraser ? 

Fraser. 
[Releasing himself,'] No. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Why, sir, if ever there was a matter for refer- 
ence, for arbitration, this is one ! 

Fraser. 
[Between his teeth,] Arbitration ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Good Heavens, when I open ray Tijnes in the 
morning, and glance at the law reports, how often 
have I occasion to remark, " That scandal might 

have been averted, and that^ and that " if 

only the intervention of some cool, level-headed 
person had been secured, the intervention of 
some one possessing the rarest of all gifts — the 
judicial faculty ! 



182 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Fraser. 
The gift is rare enough upon the bench. People 
shrink from having their concerns adjudicated by 
a meddlesome amateur. 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I sent Claude to town for his mother at ten 
o'clock this morning. When they arrive, the 
family will be complete — with the exception of 
my brother, Thomas Osborne Portwood, w^ho is in 
Australia; a deplorable case. [Looking about 
Imn,] Arbitration dispenses with legal parapher- 
nalia. A table, writing materials, a few chairs 
arranged — [his eye falling upon a table] — a table. 
[He moves the table and sta7ids, disposing, by ges- 
ture, of an imaginary audience.] Seated here, I 
should command tiie room. [Pushing the settee 
a little farther toioards the left.] This thing 
must be differently placed. Chairs there — and 

there [To Fraser.] Locheen, would this 

be the better room, I wonder, or the library ? 



Fraser. 
[ Who has lapsed into thought, rousing himself] 
Eh, for what ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
For the arbitration ? [Fraser impatiently starts 
to his feet as Mrs. Cloys enters at the window loith 
John.] Oh, Mr. Allingham, if you will give me 
just a raoment or two — - 



THE BENEFIT OF TEE DOUBT. 183 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[^Taking Sir Fletcher's arm and drawing him 
aside.] Not now, Fletcher. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

[An7io7/ed. ] Harriet *- ! 

[Sir Fletcher and Mrs. Cloys stand out" 
side the 'window^ talking. Jowa^ comes 
and faces Fraser. 

John. 

[ With an effort.] I am sorry to liear, Mr. 
Fraser, that you have been annoyed, while a 
visitor at ray house, by the persistency of my 
cough. 

Fraser. 

If I could have assured myself, Mr. Allingham, 
that your cough was a genuine one, it would not, 
however violent and grave its attacks, have occa- 
sioned me the smallest concern. 

John. 
I admit the cough was not genuine. I employed 
it as a sign that I was at hand should you wish to 
have an explanation with me. 

Fraser. 

The invitation might Iiave been more explicitly 
phrased. 

John. 

It was clear enough for most men. At any rate, 
I hope the invitation is sufficiently plain now. 



184 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Feaser. 
QuUe. 

John. 
You decline it, or accept it ? 

I]raser. 

If I hesitate, it is because I hardly know in what 
language you would choose for me to reply. 

John. 
Language ^? 

Fraser. 
Words — or a cough ? 

John. 
Oh, whichever you find most procrastinating and 
evasive. 

Fraser. 
[ Coolly. ~\ I decline your invitation, Mr. AUing- 
ham ; I have nothing to say to you. 

John. 
[ With clenched hands.'] Nothing ! 

Fraser. 

Nothing. 

John. 
[ Glances at Mrs. Cloys, then advances closdy 
to Fraser and speaks to him in a low voice, beside 
himself with anger, hut betraying nothing by 
gesture.] Fraser, you are actually responsible for 
the occurrences of last night. You have never 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 185 

understood your unfortunate wife ; but yesterday 
your behaviour to her was cruel, brutal. I charge 
you with acting to her like a brute. 

Fraser. 
l^Looking at him immovably.] Well ? 

John. 

Well ! 

Fraser. 
I repeat, I have nothing to say to you, Mr. 
Allingham. 

[Afte7' apausBy John retreats from Fraser 
and sits upon the settee^ leaning his 
head upon his hands and uttering a 
groan, 

John. 
Fraser, I promised Mrs. Cloys, out in the 
garden just now, that I would make an attempt to 
soften matters between us, and — and — offer you 
some civility — and so on. I began fairly well — 
[Fraser hows'] — and then the conversation took 
another line. However — [rising, speaking with 
an effort, not looking at Fraser] — let me say 
that my house is quite at Mrs. Fraser's disposal — 
\with a gulp] — and at yours for as long as she 
honours me — as you both honour me — by remain- 
ing here. [Fraser again boios, John glares at 
him,] As for ourselves, whenever we encounter 
each other, I will be careful to look in an opposite 
direction. Perhaps you will be good enough to 
follow the same course. 



186 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Fraser. 

It is one that would have suggested itself to me. 

Justin A enters, 

JUSTINA. 

Alec, Theo is coming in to see you. 

[John goes out quickly ; Justina speaks to 
Mrs. Cloys. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[JSnteri7ig the room and addressing Fraser.] 
Theo is ready. 

[Mrs. Cloys goes out as Sir Fletcher 
enters the room, 

JUSTINA. 

[To hi^n, sig?iijica7itly,] Now^ perhaps a little 

lunch, Uncle Fletcher 

[She goes out by the dinhig-rooni door. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[To Fraser.] Of course, my sister Harriet 
throws cold water upon my proposal - 

Fraser. 
Proposal ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Arbitration. [Fraser walks away and eyes the 
upper door anxiously and expectantly, '\ But when 
did Harriet fail to throw cold water ! I shall 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 187 

sound Allingliam and get his views. Aftei* all, 

Harriet is not essential ; Harriet is not 

[ While speaking he goes to the tahle^ takes 
up the inkstand and blotting-book and 
carries them to the other table. 



Fraser. 

[7b Sir Fletcher;] Sir Fletcher, Theophila 
understands that slie is to see me here alone 



Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[^Abstractedly.^ I am oflf, I am off. [Stopping 
at the door, looking at the table and slowly tapping 
his foreheadJ] Pens — paper ; two p's. 

[He goes out, Fraser comes to the dining- 
room doory and carefully draios the 
portihre ; then he walks away as Mrs. 
Cloys enters by the upper door with 
Theophila leaning upon her arm, 
Theophila is dressed as in the precede 
ing Acts, but without bonnet or cape, 
Mrs. Cloys places Theophila upon 
the settee, then goes out at the window, 
and disappears, Fraser takes a chair 
' and sits, 

Fraser. 
You — you are very ill, Theophila ? 

Theophila. 
[In a low, level, weary voice, her eyes turned from 
Am.] No ; I have just escaped being ill, they say. 



188 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Fraser. 
^ I have been out all inght, taking steps to find 
j^ou ; your aunt's telegram did not reach me till 
late this morning. I hurried here directly. 

Theophila. 
\Indifferently ^ her thoughts elsewhere,^ Oh ? 

Fbaser. 
I hope they told you so. 

Theophila. 
Yes — I think they did. ^Rousing herself 
slightly/\ When did you receive the news that 
I'd— I'd ? 

Fraser. 
That you had ? 

Theophila. 
Run away? 

Fraser. 
Justina came to Lennox Gardens last night at 
about half -past six. 

Theophila. 
It hadn^t struck you as at all likely ? 

Fraser. 
No. 

Theophila. 

Men donH think on some points, I suppose. 
They hit ; they never expect to see a bruise. 



M 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 189 

Fraser. 
The two days we passed in court, Tlieophila, set 
me quite beside myself. I am here to express my 
deep, my unfeigned regret for my treatment of you. 
I — I humbly beg your pardon. 

Theophila. 
l^Lookmg at him for the first tune, in an expres- 
sionless toa/i/.l You know what happened last 
night ? 

Fraser. 
[ With assumed indifference,] Mrs. Cloys — told 
me — [loith a wave of the ha7id] — oh, yes. 

Theophila. 
I asked her to tell you all. She has told you all? 

Fraser. 
[Nodding agitatedly.] For God's sake, let us 
never again refer to the subject. Forget my sliare 
of yesterday and I will forget yours. [Moving his 
chair to the head of the settee, to be nearer to her, 
Theophila, everything you planned that we shoulc 
do to reinstate you shall be done ; I am preparec. 
to go in with j^our schemes, heart and soul ; al . 
your suggestions shall be acted upon promptly. 

Theophila. 
[Moving aioay from him ; then^ after a brief 
pause,] No, thank you. Alec. 

Fraser. 
[Starhig at her,] No ? 



190 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Theophila. 
I'd rather not, now. 

Fraser. 
Why not ? 

Theophila. 
Things are different. 

Fraser. 
In what way ? 

Theophila. 
JTfeel very different. When I asked you yes- 
terday afternoon to lend me a helping hand I was 
asking for ray right. It's true we haven't got on 
well together ; you've been in one place, I in 
another, for more than half our married life. It's 
true I've been miserable and lonely, and have told 
my tale often enough to him — Mr. Allingham 

Fraser. 
[Between his teeth.] Yes, yes. 

Theophila. 
But, throughout everything, I've never been 
disloyal to you ; I've always been fair to you 
when speaking of you behind your back ; though 
I've bated you sometimes, I wouldn't have let a 
living soul say a word against you in my presence. 
This is truth ! truth ! Oh, I know I've been vilely 
brought up ! 'Tina and I are vulgar and slangy, 
and generally bad form ; and we were once what's 
called ** fast," I suppose. But our fastness didn't 



4 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 191 

amount to much ; it was only flirting, and gig- 
gling, and dodging mother, and getting lost in 
conservatories and gardens. Oh, what fools girls 
are ! No, till yesterday I've been only silly — 

silly — nothing but silly — till last night ! till 

last night ! 

Fraser. 
[Iiisi7ig and pacing the room,] Yoii were no 
more yourself last night than I was myself yester- 
day afternoon ! 

Theophila. 
[Sitting upright. Who says I was not myself ? 
It loas mj-self, the dregs of myself, that came to 
the top last night I 

Fraser. 
The — the — circumstances — under which you — 
you behaved as you did 

Theophila. 
\Hiding her face in the pillows.] Oh, don't 
remind me of it ! 

Fraser. 
I mean, you were weak — ill 

Theophila. 
You mean nothing of the sort . . . oh-h-h-h, 
how horrid I must have looked . . . ! 

Fraser. 
The}^ were mere words you were speaking 



192 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Theophila. 
It was me — me I 

Fraser. 

Surely, if I see no reason why you should not 
claim my help ? 

Theophila. 
I see a reason — that's enough. I repeat, what I 
asked of you yesterday was my right, my right. 
But to-day — to-day it would be accepting a favour 
from you 

Fraser, - 

Favour ! 

Theophila. 

Favour. A poor, tawdry little thing I've al- 
ways been ; but I've been proud — yes, very proud 
— like every woman who is square and honest. 

But now ! No, if I could pull mj^self up again, 

I'd do it, for mother's sake and 'Tina's ; but never, 
never, never, after last night, could I accept a 
favour from my husband ! 

Fraser. 
I hear from your aunt that Mrs. Allingham — 
this man Allingliam's wife! — generously offers to 
take you under her wing. Is it so ? 

Theophila. 
[Jjeaning back, her eyes closed.] Aunt brought 
me a message to that effect from Mrs. Allingham 
this morninix. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 193 

Fraser. 
What answer did you send ? 

Theophila. 
None ; I am going to see Mrs. Allingham. 

Fraser. 
I think I understand. 

Theophila. 
Understand ? 

Fraser. 
This lady's proposal is, after all, one worth con- 
sidering. It would be a double triumph for you 
to ride back into the shabby little circle you regard 
as " society " in her coach. It would be a triumph 
over me in the first place — over me! 

Theophila. 
{^Opening her eyes and speaking calmly in a 
subdued voice.] A\ec-T[glcinci7ig over her shoulder] 
is aunt out there ? 

[He goes to the window and looks out 

Fraser. 
Yes. 

Theophila. 
Call her, please. 

[ITe disappears. She rises feebly, and, with 
an effort^ pushes away the chair Fraser 
has placed at the head of the settee ; then 
she sinks into it. Mrs. Cloys enters at 
the window with Fraser, and comes to 
Theophila. 



194 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

My dear ? 

Theophila. 

Will you ask Mrs. AUingham to be good enough 
to come to me ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 

You are equal to seeing her ? 

Theophila. 
Yes — at once. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Why are you sitting here ? 

Theophila. 
[^Irritahly.^ Oh, I am not going to appear 
quite a wreck before Mrs. AUingham. Find her, 
aunt. 

[Mrs. Cloys goes out. Eraser brings a 
footstool to Theophila and places it 
under her feet. She 7iods in acknowU 
edgenient, 

Fraser. 
^Sarcastically.^ You must not forget to thank 
Mrs. AUingham for taking her place by your bed- 
side all last night. 

Theophila. 
[I?idig7iantly.~\ Ah, it was shameful of aunt to 
have allowed that ! She hid herself behind the 
curtains and peeped at me. She saw how ugly I 
was! I'll never forgive aunt for permitting it ! 
Oh 1 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 195 

Frasee. 
[^Glancing at the door,'] S-s-sh ! 



\^He walks aicay as Olive enters^ folloiced 
by Mrs. Cloys. Olive is dressed as in 
the 2^revious Act. Upon encountering 
Fraser she slightly inclines her head 
to him^ with eyes averted y he bows stiffly 
She then comes and stands before 
Theophila. 

Olive. 
[7b Theophila.] I — I hope you are better, 
Mrs. Fraser. 

Theophila. 

Thank you, yes. [Turning her head.] Don't 
go yet, aunt — nor you, Alec. [To Olive.] Mrs. 
Allingham, ray husband comes to me to-day asking 
me to go back home with him, in order that, after 
all, we may commence together to fight the 
" shabby little circle " to which I have, I dare say, 
attached a great deal too much importance. 
Well, I've declined to go back — declined. But 
Mr. Fraser has an idea that I'm treating him 
spitefully because I've found a powerful friend in 
you. 

Olive. 

Mrs. Fraser, T — I do beg of you not to act 
hastily, and without good advice. Of course, you 
are angry, justifiably angry 

Theophila. 
Ah ! 



196 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Olive. 
But pray take time to reflect. Oli, I entreat you 
to try — in a little while, when you feel less bitter — 
to try to see your way clear to — to 

Theophila. 
To do what ? 

Olive. 
To accept both Mr. Eraser's help — and mine. 

[Theophila /?ar^?2/ rises, as if about to make 
some indignant response^ hut restrains 
herself. 

Theophila. 
I — I can only make the same reply to you, Mrs. 
AUingham, as I have just made to my husband — 
thank you, no. 

Olive. 
You cannot right yourself in the eyes of people 
without Mr. Eraser's assistance or mine. And 
especially mine ! You couldn't accomplish it 
thoroughly with his help alone ; it would be 
impossible. 

Theophila. 
Very well then, it's impossible. 

Olive. 
[To Fraser.] Mr. Fiaser [Eraser ad- 
vances a few steps."] Perhaps, by and by, you 
will add your persuasions to mine that your wife 
will accept me as your ally ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 197 

Fraser. 
\^Stiffiy,'] Mrs. Allinghara, I regret that what 
you suggest is, so far as I am concerned, quite out 
of the question. 

Olive. 
Mrs. Cloys — [Fraser retires as Mrs. Cloys 
approaches^ — I am sure you can understand the 
value of the services I am able to render your 
niece. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Oh, perfectly. 

Olive. 
Then you will try to induce tier ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Ah ! you must excuse me, Mrs. AUingham 

Olive. 
You will not ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I may tell you that I anticipated her rejection 
of your proposal directly you communicated it to 

me 

Olive. 
Indeed ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
And I must say — [looking at Theophila] — that 
I fully sympathise with the — ah — the feelings 

of 

Olive. 
[Rigidly.^ Of Mrs. Fraser ? 



198 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[^Politely, ^ Of Mrs. Fraser. [Quaife enters^ and 
advances a few steps towards Mrs. Cloys, who 
speaks to him quickly,'] Has ? 

[^She breaks off, looking at him significantly, 

Quaife. 
Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[7b Fraser.] Mr. Fraser, may I trouble you 
to follow me? I have something to say to you. 
[Quaife loithdraws. To Theophila.] I must 
run away for a few. moments. Shall I send Jus- 
tina to you ? 

Olive. 
[ Quickly,"] Oh, Mrs. Fraser, let me speak a 
few words to you while no one is present 1 

Theophila. 
Certainly. 

[Mrs. Cloys passes her haiid over The- 
ophila's head caressingly y then hurries 
to the door, 

Mrs. Cloys. 

Mr. Fraser 

\She goes oiit^ Fraser accompanying her, 
Olive looks round the room, then sits, 
slowly and deliberately, upon the settee. 

Olive. 
[After a little pause,] Forgive me. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 199 

Theophila. 
Forgive you ! 

Olive. 
Oh, do make the effort ! 

Theophila. 
I can't uiiderstanrT j^our asking for my forgive- 
ness, wanting it. 

Olive. 
Endeavour to understand me. I don't remem- 
ber that it ever struck me, when you and I were — 
friends, that your disposition was a jealous one. 



No? 

It isn't, is it ? 



Theophila. 
Olive. 



Theophila. 

I couldn't go the lengths you've gone, from 
jealousy, if you mean that. 

Olive. 
[Sadly, '\ Ah ! 

Theophila. 
Oh, don't you think that enough has been done 
in the name of jealousy ? For months and months 
it has made a hell of my life, your jealousy. 
People have seen me walking about looking merr}^ ; 
but what sort of days and nights does a woman 
really spend with the Divorce Court looming before 



200 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

her ? " Allingbam versus AUingham, Fraser inter- 
veriiiig ! " that's the air you've kept me dancing to 
since — goodness knows when the music first struck 
up ! And now I'm to forgive you, offhand, be- 
cause — you happen to have a jealous disposition'! 

Olive. 
[JFhUe7'mgl]/.'] You were sustained all the time 
by the knowledge that you were an innocent, per- 
secuted woman 

Theophila. 
Much good did my innocence do me yesterday 
when they gave me " the benefit of the doubt," and 
sent me out of the court ruined ! 

Olive. 

It does you this much good^that now I am 
satisfied as to your innocence I am prepared to 
serve you humbly and faithfully. Oh, Mrs. Fraser, 
I would be a true friend to you this time ! [Eisi7ig 
and sta7iding before Theophila.] Come, forgive 
me ! 

Theophila. 

\^In a loio voice,'] Well, for the months of awful 
trouble you gave me, and for those two days in 
the Divorce Court — yes, you're welcome to my 
forgiveness for all that. \^Her voice hardening^ 
her hands clenched.] But not for last night ! 

Olive. 
You mustn't make me wholly responsible for 
what took place last night. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 201 

Theophila. 
I do hold you responsible. Why — they've- told 
me the story — I know that, when my note to your 
husband was handed to him, he wanted to send a 
message to me excusing himself from meeting me. 
Did you let the message go? There was I waiting 
out in the lane, my people in this room, all in a 
fidget to hurry to me and take me away. Did you 
let them come to me ? No, you huddled them out 
of the way, and then drew your husband into your 
plot, and trapped me in here. I was the poor rat, 
half dead, who had been well worried, but who'd 
a little life still left ; so you liad me in, panting, 
and got another few minutes' sport out of me 

Olive. 
[Her hands to her brows,'\ Oh, don't, don't ! 
Mrs. Fraser, at any rate, it was through last night 
that you cleared yourself 

Theophila. 
[Rising, and speaking fiercely. ^^ Cleared my- 
self ! Yes, and a pretty price you were the cause 
of my paying for " clearing myself " ! Do you 
think I'd have willingly cleared myself at that 
cost ? Ah, no decent woman could afford it ! 
Cleared myself ! 

Olive. 
You were mad when you You were mad. 

Theophila. 
You know better ! I was sane enough ! But 
mad, or sane, or — or whatever I was, I shall never 



202 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

think the same of myself again, never feel quite 
the same again. And to-day I'm to forgive you 
for it ! No, if you came to me and told me that 
you'd just saved the life of some one dear to me, I 
couldn't forgive you for last night. I couldn't ! 
No wonmn could. 

[Olive walks away and stands, looking out 
into the garden, 

Olive. 
[After a pause, speakhig in a hard voice,] Ex- 
cuse me for saying so, Mrs. Fraser, but I think 
you regard your share in tlie affair of last night 
more as a schoolgirl would regard it, than as a 
woman ; rather sentimentally, in fact. 

Theophila. 
Thank God, I'm able to do that/ Sentiment- 
ally ? Well, ninety-nine women out of a hundred 
are kept fresh and sweet by nothing better than 
mere sentiment. [Sitting upon the settee, a little 
faintly.] Where's 'Tina? 

[Olive turns and conies to her ; she is wip- 
ing the tears from her eyes. 

Olive. 
You know, if you wished to have your revenge 
on me, you have it. 

Theophila. 
Revenge ? I ? 

Olive. 
[Turning from Theophila, her hand playing 
loith the arm of the chair,] The services I thought 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 203 

you would allow me to render you are the only 
means by which I could hope to get my husband 
to overlook my behaviour of last night. He won't 
speak to me to-day. 

Theophila. 
I'm sorry. 

Olive. 
After what, has happened my one hold on him 
is through the reparation I could make you. And 

now — and now — you \Throwing herself into 

the chaivy crymg,^ Oh, it's like begging to you ! 

Theophila. 
Nothwithstanding — all you've done — you're 
anxious to make it up with your husband, aren't 
you? 

Olive. 
[In a ivhisper,] You needn't ask ; you've 
heard all about it. 

Theophila. 
Do you think that, with your nature, you could 
ever be happy with him, and make him happy? 

Olive. 
I — I don't — think of that. 

Theophila. 

Well, I can't say anything more than — I'm 
sorry. 

[Olive riseSy and, toith faltering stepSy comes 
to her. 



204 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

. Olive. 
Excuse me being so persistent. [^Piteously.^ 
You won't accept my help ? [Theophila, leaning 
hack with closed eyes^ shakes her head] You 
won't even — try ? 

Theophila. 
[Faintly, almost inaudibly,] It would be of no 
use ; I couldn't. 

Olive. 
[Drawing a long breathy her arms falling by her 
side,] Ah ! 

Theophila. 
I'm tired. Tell my sister 

Olive. 
[ Goes to the upper door, opens it, and looks out,] 
Oh, Quaife, where is Miss Emptage ? 

QUAIFE. 

[Out of sight,] In the dining-room, ma'am. 
Shall I ? 

Olive. 
[ Closing the door,] No, thank you. [She goes 
to the dining-room door, and opens it slightly, with- 
out withdrawing the portiere,] Miss Emptage ! 

JUSTINA. 

[From the dining-room,] Here ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 205 

Olive. 
Your sister Avishes to return to her room. 

[Olive walks away and stands outside the 
window as Justina enters and goes to 
Theophila. 

Jtjstina. 
[Baising Theophila.] Where's aunt? Why 
have they left you alone ? 

Theophila. 
I asked them to. 

JUSTINA. 

[lowering he7' voice.] With her? 



Yes. 

Tell me ! 



Theophila. 

JUSTINA. 



Theophila. 
By and by. Take me away. [Olive disap- 



JUSTINA. 

[ Walking loith Theophila toioards the upper 
door,] Oh, we've had such a time in there ! Uncle 
Fletcher's been boring our heads off on the subject 
of the blessings of Arbitration ; and at last, Jack, 



206 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

who is in a vile temper, almost jumped down his 

throat. 

\They go out^ whereupon John is seen to 
slightly push aside the portiere and 
peep into the room. Satisfied that the 
room is empty, he enters quicJcly, closes 
the door behind hhn emphatically, 
and throws himself on to the settee with 
a groan of weariness, Olive returns ; 
she is about to pass the window, but 
seeing John, she enters quietly, takes a 
chair ^ and sits. They remain looking 
at each other for a little while without 
speaking, 

Olive. 
Good morning, John — well, afternoon. 

John. 
Er — Have you lunched ? 

Olive. 
No. 

John. 
\IjOoking towards the dining-room door,^ It's 
in tliere. 

Olive. 
IDryly,'] Thanks. 

John. 
I — I'm sorry I can't offer to wait on you 

Olive. 
Oh, pray don't !v 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 207 

John. 
But Port wood is still eating. I've been rude to 
him. 

Olive. 

Indeed ? 

JOHX. 

[^Rising and walking ahoiitJ\ I believe all these 
people will drive me crazy ! I don't know where 
to get to for them. 

Olive. 

You are in your own house. Need you seek to 
avoid any of them ? 

John. 
Well, I'm not particularly desirous, for instance, 
of another encounter with Mr. Fraser. 

Olive. 
Another. Have you ? 

John. 
Yes. I've been rude to him. 

Olive. 
Oh ! Mrs. Cloys ? 

John. 

She treats me as a schoolmistress w^ould treat a 
very small boy in disgrace, 

Olive. 
Miss Emptage ! 



208 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

JO-HN. 

Lectures me and patronises me till my blood 
curdles. Just now I was almost — well, I hope 

not 

Olive. 
Rude to her ? 

John. 

Yes. And then this maddening old man ? 

I can't endure it ! Even my servants 

Olive. 
Servants ? 

John. 

A minute or two ago I was trying to escape 
from the dining-room by passing through the 
kitchen, and I came upon my cook and Mrs. 
Fraser's maid discussing me over a bowl of 

chicken broth. Mrs. Quaife — my cook ! I 

heard her distinctly! "I never thought Mr. 
Allingham Avas that sort of a gentleman," she 
said. 

Olive. 

What sort of a gentleman ? 

John. 
I don't know. I got away. 

Olive. 
H'm, I think I should have been rude to her. 

John. 
And there are two more relatives of Mrs. 
Fraser's to arrive yet. [Throwing himself into 



TSE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 209 

a chal7\] The boy has gone to town to fetcli the 
mother. The mother ! 

Olive. 
[Rlsinff and loalking towards the door,] At 
any rate, I can rid you of one unwelcome guest. 
[JHe looks up at her.] I am going, John, directly. 

John. 
Going home ? 

Olive. 
Going back to my flat. 

John. 

[Jiising.] Then there is no longer any necessity 
for me to stick in this wretched cottage. 

Olive. 
I'm sorry to have been the cause 



John. 
Of course, I could not leave you here among 
your — :your 

Olive. 
Enemies. 

John. 
Well, hardly friends. Then Mrs. Fraser is well 
enough to travel ? 

Olive. 
I don't know, I'm sure. 



210 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

John. 

You've relinquished your intention of devoting 
yourself to her ? 

Olive. 

No, I haven't relinquished it. Mrs. Fraser will 
have nothing to do with me. 

John. 
She has said so ? 

Oliv^. 
[Sitting upon the settee,] Oh, yes, she has said 
so. 

John. 

What reason does she give ? 

Olive. 
Slie will not receive help from the w^oman who 
— who brought that humiliation on her last night. 
I believe, if she was starving, she wouldn't take a 
crust from my hand. 

John. 
She returns to her husband, I suppose ? . 

Olive. 
I think not. She is in the mood to accept noth- 
ing from anybody. 

John. 
[Sitting with his head bowed.] Wounded — 
wounded 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 211 

Olive. 

[ With a slight shrug of the shouldersJ] She's 
a sentimental, romantic little person, I find. 
Well ! 

John. 

Ha, we didn^t calculate for this when we ar- 
ranged our ingenious little plan last night ! We 
were to restore Mrs. Eraser's name and position 
to her untarnished ; we were to set poor little 
Humpty-Dumpty up again by — when was it? — 
Goodwood week; all in return for your ten minutes' 

fun in there! We were d d generous, you and 

I — only we reckoned without Mrs. Eraser! [^Start- 
ing up.'] And so, you see, after all, we've had our 
fun and enjoyed it, and yet pay nothing for it ! 
But, at the same time, we mustn't forget that in 
this world everything lias to be paid for by some- 
body. By Jove, there's no doubt as to who 
stands treat for last night ! Mrs. Fraser pays ! 
that poor, little, broken-down woman pays ! She 
pays ! 

Olive. 
[Rising.l You blame me beyond all reason ! 
I'll not put up with it ! Why didn't you call her 
aunt into the room last night when you saw Mrs. 
Fraser becoming wilder and wilder? [Walking 
away.] Pah ! you appeared moonstruck! moon- 
struck! 

John. 
I thought I might save her from meeting her 
people while she was so unlike herself. You know 
I was helpless [She approaches ; he seizes 



212 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOVBT. 

her by the shoulders,^^ You — you reproach me ! 
Wliy didn't you strike that bell sooner? Avhy 
didn't you strike it sooner ? [^Leaving her^ and 
throwmg himself into a chair, '\ Ah, you weren't 
capable even of that ! 

Olive. 
\Tearf%dly^ rubbing her shoulders.] Oh, 

John ! 

John. 
I beg your pardon. 

Olive. 

[Goi7ig to him slowly y leaning against the 
balustrade,] John — — 

John. 
Well? 

Olive. 
I will confess it to you — I didn't strike the bell 

at all. 

John, 
You— did not ? 

Olive. 
I was under tlie impression I had stopped the 
clock before I sat down to listen, but in my agita- 
tion I must have shaken it and started it again. 
[ITneeling beside John's chair,] The clock struck 
of its own accord. 

John. 

And you sat there, drinking in every word ; and 
wheu the poor creature had cleared herself, and 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 213 

satisfied you, still you made no effort ! 

[Bising,'] Oh ! 

Olive. 
[^Seizing his coat,] John, I coiddnH move from 
tliat curtain ! I was a wretch ! Pity me ! I 
coxddnH stir ! [John walks aicay. She rises from 
the ground and sits^ Oh, get me a cari'iage of 
some sort to take me to the station. 

John. 
\^Going towards the bell.] I'll tell Quaife. 
\^Pausi7ig^ looking at her.] I don't know — I can't 
imagine — how you are going to get through your 
life 

Olive. 
Oh, please ! I've been lectured by Mrs. Fraser, 
Oh, there are heaps of solitary v/omen in the 
world ; some people envy them. [He sits upon 
the settee.] Now that — now that — the chances 
of our coming together again have fallen through, 
I shall be off out of London at once. Where can 
one go to at this time of the year ? 

John. 
[^Abstractedly.] Eh ? Er — it's a bit early for 
most places. 

Olive. 
I'm going to Aix in August. 

John. 
\Looking up.] You are ? 



214 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Olive. 
Oh ! Why, did you think of ? 

John. 
Yes. But it doesn't matter. 

Olive. 
Oh, I don't want to interfere with your 

John. 
Aix is a pretty big place. 

Olive. 
Where will you stay ? 

John. 
I've been told, the " Splendide " 

Olive. 
Oh ! 

John. 
What? 

Olive. 
I can easily put up elsewhere. 

John. 
You needn't. I daresay the ^' Splendide " is 
quite large enough for two people who — who 

Olive.' 
Who want to keep far apart. \^Rismg and 
going towards the door^ pausmg by the head of the 
settee,^ How ridiculous that reconciliation of ours 



TEE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 215 

last night ? Why, how many weeks should we 
have been together ? 

John. 
[^His head resting upon his ha7ids.] Not many — 
not many, I'm afraid. 

Olive. 
Weeks ! Days, I should have said — or hours. 
" Heaven have mercy upon us ! we're reconciled !" 
Do you remember — last night ? 

John. 
Ha ! yes. 

Olive. 
" Heaven have mercy upon us ! " Ha, ha ! 

John. ^ 

Heaven have mercy on us ! 

Olive. 
[ Wiping the tears from her eyes.] I — I'll go 
and put my bonnet on. [He Hses, and she holds 
out her hand,] Good-bye, John. 

John. 
[Taking her hand^ looking away,] Good-bye, 

Olive. 
[Suddenly drawi^ig back.] Oh ! 

John. 
What? 



216 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Olive. 
[^Breathlessly, '] Oh, yes ! 



Olive ? 



John. 



Olive. 



Ab — h — h — li, you'll find plenty of pretty 
women at Aix ! 

QuAiFE enters^ showing iJi Mrs. Emtage and 
Claude. Quaife retii^es. Mrs. Emptage is 
in a bright and fashionable morning dress, 

Mrs. Emptage. 

[To Olive.] Mrs. AUingbam ! [To 

Claude.] Claude, keep by me. My legs are all 
of ^ a tremble. Where is my daughter, Mrs. 
Eraser ? Take me to her. I am very ill indeed ; 
I fancy this affair has affected my heart 

John. 
Pray sit down for a moment. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Sitting down.'] We used to be friends, Mr. 
Allingliam — great friends ; now I wonder you can 
look me in the face. [Pa^iting^ I have heard 
everything from Claude. I am ashamed — I must 
say it — I am ashamed of you and your wife. 

[Olive makes a movement as if to go } 
John detains her^ 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 217 

John. 

[To Olive.] No, no ; I don't think we'll run 
away and hide any more. \^Turning to Mrs. 
Emptage.] But I hope that Mrs. Emptage will 
be kind enough to apply to me, alone, any harsh 
expressions she may care to make use of 

Sir Fletcher enters. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[Advancing,^ Ah, Muriel — — ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Jiisinff, throwing her arms round Sir 
Fletcher's neck.] Oh, Fletcher, Fletcher ! I've 
hardly closed my eyes all night ! 

Claude. 
May I ask what has gone on during my absence ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
During your absence ! 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Is Alec here ? 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Yes, the family gathering is complete. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Does Theo return to Lennox Gardens ? Has an 
arrangement of any sort been come to ? 



218 THE BENEFIT OF THE BOUST 

SiE Fletcher Portwood. 
None that I know of. I seem to be powerless. 

Mrs. Cloys anc? Fraser e7iter. 

Claude. 
[Meetmg them,] 'TJlIo, aunt ! 'ullo, Fraser ! 
[Mrs. Emptage, totters to Mrs. Cloys. 
Claude retires, John walks avmy to 
the fireplace, Olive is now seated 
upon the settee, 

Mrs. Emptage. 

\En\hracing Mrs. Cloys.] Oh, Harriet, I am 
very poorly ; I don't think I have had two hours' 
rest all night. \^Going to Eraser and kissing 
him.] Alec you will prove a generous, good fel- 
low — of that I am sure. Poor Theo has behaved 
very indiscreetlyr I really believe my heart has 
been upset by it all 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I have something important to say, Muriel. 
Pray sit down and be quiet. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
\In a flutter,] I know, I know. Unless I can 
be kept quiet it will be very serious for me. \^In 
her agitation she is about to sit upon the settee 
beside Olive.] Oh, dear, what am I doing ! . 
\Movi7ig awayy she stops, ^jjom^i??^ to the library.] 
Great Heavens ! was that the room ? 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 219 

Mrs. Cloys. 

S-s-sh ! [Mrs. Emptage sits again, Fraser 

goes to the loindow and stands tJiere^ apart^ his 

back turned to those in the room,'] What I have 

to say concerns the future of Theophila 

t There is a move77ie7it on the i^art of John and 
>L1VE.] Please let nobody go. All who are 
here are interested in the future of Mrs. Fraser — 
\looki7ig at Olive] — and I believe sympathetically 
interested. l^Sitting,] In fact, I want it to be 
known that a very happy arrangement has been 
arrived at. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[7b Sir Fletcher.] Fletcher, you said no 
arrangement had been arrived at. 

Sir Fletcher. 
I have not been consulted, Harriet. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I did not consider it necessary, Fletcher. There 
was a question whether the plan I had in view 
could be carried out. 



Sir Fletcher. 
Then you — you have constituted yourself 
a sort of — arbitrator 



Mrs. Cloys. 
As you say, a sort of arbitratrix, I suppose. 



220 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 

The cloak of pedantry, Harriet, scarcely con- 
ceals your want of respect for your brother. 

[Passing Mrs. Cloys, as if about to quit 
the room, 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[ Touching his arm.] We'll all keep our tempers, 
Fletcher. [JSe remai7is.] Yes, the thought came 
to me during the night — a long, anxious night 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Ah, indeed ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 

The thought that I would telegraph to the 
bishop the very first thing this morning. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
The bishop ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Asking him to come to me at once. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Will he do so ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
The bishop is goodness and compliance per- 
sonified. He left St. Olpherts at ten o'clock this 
morning ; he is here. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Here ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 221 

Mrs. Emptage. 
I shall be ashamed to meet him ; after my 
sleepless night my face is so dreadfully lined ! 

Mrs. Cloys. 
The bishop does not notice the lines in women's 
faces. Directly he arrived, I submitted my 
scheme ; in two words, he approved ; it will be 
carried into execution. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I do not ask what scheme. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Theophila returns to St. Olpherts at once with 
us. She will rest there two or three days, by 
which time I shall have found a suitable house in 
town 

Mrs. Emptage. 
In town ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
The bishop and I have not had a house in town 
for some years. Mr. Eraser kindly sees house 
agents this afternoon. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
I would willingly have seen house agents, 
Harriet. A furnished house ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
l^Assejiting.'] For the season — sufficiently large 
for the dear bishop, myself, and Theophila. Both 



222 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 

in London and at St. Olpherts, Theophila will be 
my close companion. In our little London gaieties 
she will figure prominentl3\ At certain formal 
gatherings she will share the responsibilities of the 
hostess. If any paragraph concerning our doings 
should creep into the newspaper, it will concern 
the Bishop of St. Olpherts, Mrs. Cloys, and Mrs. 
Fraser of Locheen. Oh, I don't think there will 
be many to wag evil tongues against Mrs. Fraser 
a few months hence ! 

[Oliye rises and advances to Mrs. Cloys, 
loho stands up as she approaches. 

Olive. 
[In a loio voice^ to Mrs. Cloys.] I'm glad ; I'm 
very glad. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
That's right. 

Olive. 
[Falteringly,] But your — your scheme owes — 
just a little to my idea, doesn't it ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
I admit it. Mrs. Allingham, I am sure you don't 
grudge 

Olive. 
No, no ; indeed I don't. I — I hope you will 

succeed — to the utmost 

[She turns avmy^ and goes out by the dining^ 
room door. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 223 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Iiisi?iffy fretfully,'] It seems to me everything 
is taken out of one's hands 

Sir Fletcher. 
In a most unceremonious way 



Mrs. Emptage. 
[ Glcmcing at Eraser, \olio is noio out in the 
garden,] What about Alec — Mr. Eraser ? 

Sir Eletcher. 
Of course, any policy that doesn't tend to bring 
my niece and her husband together 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Ah, I haven't told you. Mr. Eraser is to be a 
frequent — a fairly frequent visitor in London, and 
at St. Olpherts. 

Sir Eletcher. 
[ With a sniff.] Visitor — — 

Mrs. Cloys. 
And it is further arranged that, in a year's time, 
Mr. Eraser comes to us and formally asks Theo- 
phila to return to Lennox Gardens. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
And when he does ? 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Then we shall see what we shall see. 



224 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT 

Sir Fletcher. 
[ Walking away,] I can't quite explain ray feel- 
ing — but I am not sanguine — not at all sanguine. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
At any rate, in less than twelve months, if I 
know my girl, she will have grown heartily sick of 
her solemn suiToundings. 

Mrs. Cloys. 

[Indiffnantly.] How dare you ! How ! 

[ Checking herself.] Well, suppose she does weary 
of me, good will result even from that if it sends 
her back to her husband. 

The door openSj and the Bishop of St. Olpherts 
enters with Theophila upon his arm. Justina 
follows them, carrying a shawl. The bishop 
is a mild looking, very old man. Theophila 
is dressed in her cape and bonnet, and her face 
is hidden under her thick 'ceil, 

Theophila. 
[Coming to Mrs. Emptage, and kissing her.] 

Mother 

[Mrs. Emptage kisses her hastily and bustles 
over to the Bishop. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Ah, bishop, I can hardly hope you'll recollect 
me. 

Bishop. 

[ Vaguely.] Yes, yes, yes. 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 225 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[ With a simper,] Muriel, you know. 

Bishop. 
[Takinff her hand] Mrs. Emptage — — ! 



Mrs. Emptage. 
Don't tell me ; I know I'm altered. 

Bishop. 
Ah, years pass over us. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
It isn't that — but I had no sleep last night. 

[Sir Fletcher advances^ and grasps the 
Bishop's hand. 

Sir Fletcher. 
I remember years ago, at the opening of the 
People's Library at Stockwell, describing Dr. 
Cloys as one of the stoutest pillars of our 
Church 

Bishop. 
[ Uneasily,] The People's Library at ;- ? 

Sir Fletcher. 

Stockwell. To-day I have only to add — may 
that pillar never grow faint nor weary ; may its 
back remain equal to the burden imposed upon it ; 



226 THE BE3EFIT OF THE DOUBT 

may it continue to plough the stormy seas of 
scepticism and agnosticism ! - '^ 

Bishop. 
\^Helplessly,^ Er-r — who is it ? 

Mbs. Cloys. 
My brother Fletcher. 

Bishop. 
Ah, how do you do ? [Ql^aife appears. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Is the fly here? 

QUAIFE. 

Yes, ma'-am. 

[QuAiFE loithdraios. The Bishop moves 
towards the windoio^ Sir Fletcher 
closely following him, 

Theophila. 
[7b Mrs. Emptage.] Good-bye, mother dear. 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[Mnbracinff he7\] Oli, good-bye, my darling. I 
won't reproach you. If you make a bed j^ou must 
lie on it. You've nearly broken my heart, but 
I'm only your mother 

Theophila. 
Oh, don't ! 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. 227 

Mrs. Emptage. 
[In a ivhisper,] Mind you see that we visit you 
constantly in London and St. Olpherts ! 

Theophila. 
Yes, yes. [As she is 'umlkiiig away^ she sees 
John — who has been standing silently behind the 
settee^ his back turned to those in the room — and. 
she says to the others^ One moment. [She comes 
dotcn^ looking at John.] Mr. Allingliam. [He 
approaches her slowly. After a paitse, she says 
in a loio voiced] Oh, Jack, liow could you ? [He 
bows his heady making 710 reply,'] Well — for 

auld lang-syne [She holds out her hand ; he 

takes ity but releases it quickly. She turiis to gOy 
then pauses.] Where's your wife? [He looks 
toicards the dining-room door. She hesitates for 
a moment^ then goes out quickly by that door.] 

Mrs. Cloys. 
[Looking round.] Theophila — Theophila 

John. 

[ Watching the door.] She will be here in a 
moment, she is with my wife. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
[His voice rising.] My dear bishop, it is my 
view of life, and the observation has some theo- 
logical bearing, that the devil almost invariably 
appears to w^omen in the form of Impulse. In 
saying this, I am perhaps on the verge of a 
truism— — 



228 THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 

Bishop of St. Olpherts. 

No, no, no. 

Theophila re-enters ; her veil is raised. 

Theophila. 
[As she passes Joiix, lowering her veil] It's all 
right. 

[There is a hubbub of talk as Theophila 
and her relatives go out at the upper 
door, 

Mrs. Emptage. 
You will need a warm wrap, Theo. 

JUSTINA. 

I have one here, mother. 

Mrs. Cloys. 
Now, bishop 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Is the carriage closed ? 

Bishop of St. Olpherts. 
I hope not. 

Sir Fletcher Portwood. 
Yoii shall run no risk, my dear bishop 



» 



THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT, 229 

Mrs. Emptage. 
Claude, come to the gate. Give me your arm, 

Alec 

[ The talk ceases, John is alone. After a 
pause he goes out into the garden arid 
stands looking off towards the left^ as 
if watching the departi7ig carriage, 
Oliyb enters slowly and sadly ; she sits 
upon the settee^ covering her eyes with 
her hand. John re-enters the roora. 
Seeing Oliye, he remains lohere he is 
for a moment or two irresolutely ; then 
he comes down to her^ sits beside her, 
and takes her hand. 



THE END. 



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